


Filling the Pages

by olivejuice28



Series: More Than A Thousand Words [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, EWE, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Game Night, Grief, Post-Hogwarts, Starting Over, character death (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 90
Words: 337,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23512144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: The Eighth Years have graduated and are settling into life in the real world. Love continues to blossom, relationships are forged and challenged, and more opportunities to right the wrongs of the past arise. Follow Draco, Hermione, and all of their friends as they enter this new chapter in their lives.*This work is the sequel to "A Thousand Words." While it is absolutely possible to read this story by itself, there will be many references to the original, so it would be best to read that one first :)**As always, I do not own any of these wonderful characters, nor do I make any money off my fanciful ideas. I plan to post one new chapter each week until I can get a decent amount completed, and then possibly up that to two.*
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Edward Granger/Jeanette Granger, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Theo Nott/Luna Lovegood
Series: More Than A Thousand Words [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691782
Comments: 693
Kudos: 419
Collections: Dramione Hits





	1. The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> I've started a Pinterest board based on the first story (A Thousand Words) and plan to continue it to include more images from that, as well as ones from this sequel. If you'd like to check it out, it's https://www.pinterest.com/debc28/a-thousand-words/ Thanks so much! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is at her parents' home in Redland, contemplating her future and corresponding with friends.

**_“It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.”_ ** **_~ Jane Austen_ **

****

The weeks following commencement passed by in a hazy blur of familiar comforts, long conversations, and hours spent gazing at the vast horizon beyond the reach of those contemplating it from the sandy coastline. This was where Hermione found herself repeatedly in the days after arriving in Redland with her parents, and she appreciated the steadying peace that came from sitting beside the endless water, where the tide never ceased its movement.

Leaving Hogwarts had been bittersweet. The ancient castle had been her safeguard and refuge and as much a home to her over her adolescent years as her own childhood dwelling. Parting was made easier by the fact that the now-graduated Eighth Years would be returning regularly for Game Nights once the new term began in September, not to mention Draco’s new appointment on staff there, which would allow her another excuse to make the journey to the highlands of Scotland. As much as she hated to leave however, she couldn’t help but be thoroughly excited at the prospect of traveling to Australia with her parents. After only a little bit of waffling, a brief period of list-making, and much prodding from aforementioned boyfriend, she decided to give herself the summer off from worrying about career paths and occupational endeavors. Whatever job she pursued would surely still be there in August when she returned to Britain.

Edward and Jeanette had been thrilled with her decision, though they had intentionally refrained from saying too much about any of it, wanting her to come to whatever conclusion she did on her own. Having two months in which to catch up and reconnect was a tremendous blessing, and the three of them had arrived in the seaside town “down under” feeling excited and grateful and just generally pleased with the current state of events. From the very first day, the three Grangers settled into a comfortable routine of coffee together on the back porch every morning, dinners around the small kitchen table, and something sweet by the fire pit in the yard in the evenings.

They’d discussed anything and everything about the events of the last two years: Hermione’s time on the run with Harry and Ron, the Battle of Hogwarts, the losses they incurred, and most of these conversations wound up backtracking to earlier years, in order for the string of circumstances to make sense. Her parents took most of it in stride, accepting the fact that there was much about the Wizarding World they didn’t understand, but the one hard truth they couldn’t seem to reconcile was the fact that the fate of the magical world had been left in the hands of a teenage boy and his friends.

“I’ve struggled with that for a long time, too, especially after seeing all the weight Harry still bears from it,” Hermione said thoughtfully after yet another conversation about it all. “If I’m being entirely honest, I blame Dumbledore the most for that. He was the only one who seemed to know anything about how it was supposed to play out, and left Harry feeling like there was no other choice. Was there? I don’t know. But we did what we had to based on the information we were given.”

Jeanette regarded her daughter for several minutes as she contemplated this line of reasoning, “I guess I can understand why you and Ron would see it that way, especially with everything Harry had already gone through by that point. I still wish we could have helped you in some way.”

Hermione’s eyes shone with tears, a common occurrence when this topic arose, “I know, Mum, but there was nothing you could do. Any connection to us would just have put you and dad in even greater danger.” She glanced at her father who had been fairly quiet throughout the dialogue and he simply nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. While Hermione’s love of books and learning were inherited from her mother, her logical temperament and world view were much more like her father. He understood why she’d made the choices she had and, even though he greatly disliked the idea of his daughter being in any sort of dangerous or life-threatening situation, he accepted that the path had been laid out long before any of them realized where it was headed.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” Hermione continued, “But after Fourth Year, I started sharing less and less about Harry with you. We knew then that something was coming, once Voldemort returned. We didn’t know what exactly, or when, but Harry’d had a target on his back since he was born, so it wasn’t a leap to think things were going to get difficult, and soon. I didn’t want you two to know anything, so it couldn’t be used against you.”

“Didn’t Harry’s relatives go into hiding?” Jeanette asked, “Why couldn’t we have,” but her daughter cut her off, not unkindly, but knowing exactly where this line of questioning was going.

“Mum, if I told you the summer after Sixth Year that you and Dad needed to go live in an Order-provided safe house, while Harry, Ron, and I set off on a dangerous mission to destroy the remaining pieces of Voldemort’s soul, do you really think you’d have agreed to that? Would you honestly have said ‘okay, sweetie, send us a postcard when you can,’ and sent me on my way?” She injected a slight note of teasing into her tone to lighten the mood, but hoped her mother understood what she was trying to say.

Jeanette looked imploringly between her husband and child, knowing the answer but still wishing it all could have been orchestrated differently.

Edward gave a soft chuckle, “I think there are always going to be things we wished could have gone otherwise, but there’s really no sense rehashing it all now that it’s over. Was it a fantastic set of circumstances? No. Not at all. Would we have willingly let our only child set off on such an ordeal? Probably not. But then, would it all have ended the way it did if she hadn’t been there to help Harry? According to him, absolutely not. So,” he splayed his hands out in front of him in a ‘there you have it’ sort of way and smiled warmly at his two favorite girls.

Hermione smiled gratefully back at her father, appreciating his reasoning and his support more than she could put into words in that moment, and Jeanette gave a sigh as she resigned herself to the fact that both her husband and daughter were far too logical for her liking, and were also right many more times than she cared to admit.

ooOoo

About a week after their return home, Hermione’s parents opened their dental practice back up from its hiatus, but limited the number of patients they saw each day, so that they were only gone for a few hours between late morning and early evening. During that time, the recently-graduated witch busied herself with walks along the beach, letters to friends, recreational reading, and daydreams about Draco.

A blissful sigh escaped her lips as she once again let her mind drift to the tall blonde. She had been reluctant to say goodbye to him for two months, but he had been so supportive of her spending uninterrupted time with her parents, and promised to write regularly, so her worries were for naught. They’d even managed a couple of floo calls over the last few weeks, though the time difference made that rather difficult. Two days after she’d arrived, a lovely little Southern Boobook Owl tapped at her window with a scroll attached to its leg. It was a letter from Draco saying he’d got the native bird for her so they could correspond more easily, taking turns between her new feathered friend and his Eagle Owl, Apollo, so as not to put the long-distance burden on one bird. The gesture was so sweet and unexpected, it had made her mildly weepy as she attempted to respond to his missive. She decided to name her bird Cyrene, who according to Greek Mythology was Apollo’s greatest love.

A perch was set up on the back porch, complete with a water bowl, treat box, and hanging basket for the carriers to have a kip in between transatlantic flights, and in no time at all, the birds became fast friends with Edward who had a bit of a soft spot for just about anything with fur or feathers.

One evening, about a month into their time together, all three Grangers were sitting around the fire pit, enjoying bowls of Jeanette’s delicious trifle, when Cyrene came swooping over their heads. Hermione started to get up but her father beat her to it as he made a beeline for the owl’s landing spot. She and her mother exchanged amused glances as they heard him conversing quietly with Cyrene, asking how her trip went and if she was hungry. As had been the case several times in recent weeks, Hermione was once again reminded that it was no small miracle that they were all here together, much less that it would seem perfectly normal for her dad to be chatting with a bird about letter delivery. She chuckled at the thought and shook her head as Edward returned to his spot by the flames, his hand extended to her.

“Looks like you got two this time,” he announced cheerfully.

True enough, there were two small scrolls, each sporting a different seal. She recognized the silver circle with the raised “M” from Draco, of course, but the second, at first glance, was unknown. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was a red hexagon with a “P” raised in the center, and set about carefully opening that one, having a slight idea who it might be from. Unrolling the half-sized piece of parchment, she chuckled again as her suspicions were confirmed.

_Hermione,_

_Just wanted to say hello and see how you’re doing. I know I just wrote a few days ago, but Narcissa got me this wax seal and I needed an excuse to use it so I could tell her I had next time I see her. I can’t exactly use it for Auror documents, and I don’t write to many people, so…. Though I’m sure that will change once Ginny leaves with the Harpies in a few weeks. While I really am thrilled for her, I’m not keen on her being gone so long or traveling all over the place. I keep telling myself it will be just like last year when she was still at Hogwarts – we only saw each other for holidays then, too – so we’ll see._

_Nothing new to report. Ron says hi, and George wants to know if you’ll test out a new product for him when you get back (tell him NO). Also, thought you’d like to know that Dean just started his job with Magical Games and Sports. He and Seamus have taken a flat about a block away from the Ministry, since Seamus works in Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Who knew all those fires and explosions would pay off as a career? Hah!_

_Anyway, hope you are well. Give my best to your parents._

_Love,_

_Harry_

_P.S. Kreacher made a hammock for Roy. I’m not kidding. You’ll see it when you get back._

Hermione giggled as she flipped the missive over and studied the red imprint again. It was simple, but definitely high quality, and she thought the gesture from Narcissa was very sweet, even though it was a little fancy for her pragmatic and no-frills best friend. She passed the letter to her mother, something she’d begun doing with most of her correspondence as a way to help her folks feel more connected to the goings-on in her life. Draco knew she did this and often separated his writings into two pages; one that could be shared with her parents, and one that was meant for her eyes only. True to form, as she unrolled the second scroll, a smaller piece of paper slid out from inside and she tucked that one into her pocket for later.

_Hello love,_

_How are you? Thank you so much for the turban shell you sent with your last letter; I’d never seen one of those before and it’s brilliant! The pattern is amazing – looks almost like dragon scales. It’s sitting on my desk, right next to a framed photo of us, and the Waratah bloom you sent a few weeks ago. I’m starting to think I’ll need to make a trip to Redland myself someday, just so I can see all of these wonderful things in person._

_Before I forget – I need to run something by you – a gift idea for Potter’s birthday. I thought about Quidditch tickets, but with Ginny now playing professionally, he won’t have any trouble scoring those. (Who am I kidding? The Chosen One wouldn’t have a problem getting an audience with the Queen if he really wanted one.) I have an idea but I want your opinion – could we do a floo call tomorrow? Around 1:00 your time? I’d rather not write it all out. Plus, it’s an excuse to see your face._

_Mother asks about you all the time, as does Andromeda, and both want to know when you’re coming back and if you’ll come visit once you are. Teddy has recently discovered the lower kitchen cabinets where all the pots and pans are stored and has been driving the kitchen elves mad, but they’re too fond of him to tell him “no” or lock the doors. Merry has been walking around with cotton wads stuffed in her ears._

_Alcott sent all of the letters back that Potter and I had written him, so I have those for you to add to your collection. Do you want me to send them with Apollo next time?_

_I’m meeting with Minister Shaklebolt at the beginning of August to sign some papers and finalize the details for next year. Originally, Potter was just going to bring him here on a Thursday, but the Minister wants me to come to his office. Apparently he wants people to see me with him; a show of good faith, and to get people used to seeing a Malfoy in public again. I’m a little nervous, to be honest, but I figure no one would dare say or do anything in front of him. I guess we’ll see._

_I’ll end here. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Please give my best to your parents._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

Hermione’s thoughts were zooming off in multiple directions as she considered what Draco had written. The image of Teddy in the kitchen made her giggle, and the thought of him going into the Ministry caused some apprehension, but he was right. No one in the offices would be brave (or foolish) enough to cross Kingsley or question his support of the former-Death Eater. At least not right in front of him. She also was very excited to talk to her favorite wizard the next afternoon and was curious about what he wanted to do for Harry that was too long or involved to jot down in a letter. Speaking of her best friend, she needed to send his birthday gift along as well, though she was going about it the Muggle way. Harry had taken a post office box shortly after he’d started his job simply as a way to get a few non-magical subscriptions. Around Christmastime, he sent a card to Dudley out of sheer goodwill and a desire to know how his cousin was faring now that he would also be done with school.

A few months after joining the Auror Department, Harry had done some digging around regarding his relatives. The last time he’d seen any of them was the day they pulled out of the driveway, heading for an undisclosed safe house with Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle. It turned out that they _did_ make it to their destination in one piece, something he’d sorely doubted would be possible knowing his uncle, but they’d arrived and once the dust settled, seemed to do just fine. An Auror had been hired as Vernon’s “assistant” – someone who could go into his office at Grunnings once a week to collect whatever memos, files, orders, and communications had come through so he could continue working remotely. The story had been spread that Petunia was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness and that her husband needed to remain with her at all times. Dudley took correspondence courses to finish up his schooling, and Hestia and Dedalus took turns checking on the family of three, eventually establishing what one might even call a friendship with the Muggles; Dudley most of all.

When the war finally ended, the Dursleys moved back to Number Four, Vernon returned to work fulltime, Petunia experienced a “miraculous recovery,” and Dudley began working for his father in an entry-level position on the factory floor. The last time Hestia stopped by for a quick visit, Harry’s cousin had asked about him and wondered aloud if he’d ever see him again. All of this had been documented in the detailed file that contained every bit of information about his relatives, and he’d been a little irritated that no one had seen fit to give it to him once everything was over. He held no fondness for his aunt and uncle, but he didn’t mind Dudley so much anymore, especially after their farewell interaction. Harry had come to the conclusion after assisting Draco throughout his trial, that his cousin wasn’t much different in that he’d been raised to think a certain way. And so, with the holidays approaching, he’d decided to send a short note, scribbled at the bottom of a generic Christmas card, simply wishing Dudley well and expressing his willingness to get together sometime.

Over a month later, a response came in the form of a postcard one might pick up at a local drug store with an artistically angled image of Big Ben gracing the glossy front side. It was even shorter than Harry’s correspondence, with Dudley stating that he was well and could go for a pint. A few weeks later, the cousins met up at a pub in London where stilted conversation and awkward silence eventually eased its way into an amicable chat and a promise to do it again. Thus began the fairly regular meet-up of the two young men, typically on a Monday night, and at first, always at the same spot. After a while, though, they decided to try out other taverns and pubs (since there’s no shortage of those in the city) and that became a bit of a bonding activity, with both of them looking forward to their next adventure.

As a result of this new hobby of Harry’s, his curly-haired best friend had decided to get him a few things that might be useful for such endeavors: a London Underground pass, a guide book listing all 3500 pubs, as well as reviews and helpful hints, a Nicholson’s “Ale Trails” t-shirt, and a set of four glass tumblers with a map of London etched around the sides. She’d boxed it all up and used actual peanuts, instead of the styrofoam packing kind (ala “pub floor”), and knew he’d get a kick out of the entire, ridiculous thing.

“Everything ok?” Jeanette’s voice broke through Hermione’s wandering thoughts and the younger woman turned to see her mother smiling at her with a knowing look on her face.

“Oh, yes!” Hermione replied, handing Draco’s letter to Jeanette and giving a small huff, “I got sidetracked thinking about Harry’s birthday gift. I need to take it to the post office tomorrow morning.”

“That’s right; I forgot he has a summer birthday,” Jeanette mused as she read the parchment in front of her. She looked up suddenly, “You sent him a cake one year, didn’t you?”

Hermione laughed, “Yes! That was the summer before Fourth Year, when the Dursleys were all on a diet and forcing Harry to survive on carrots and grapefruit.” She shook her head, “He got one from me, Ron, Hagrid, and Sirius, and hid them under a floorboard in his room so Dudley wouldn’t find them.”

Her mother looked mildly appalled at that, “Those relatives of his were quite horrid, weren’t they?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Hermione agreed, “But he’s able to look back at a lot of it and laugh now, which is good.”

“Better than letting it fester and turn you bitter,” Edward interjected, “I’m amazed the lad is as normal and even-keeled as he is after everything he’s endured.” He paused, clearly deep in thought for a moment before going on, “I suppose that could be said for all of you on various levels.” His warm brown eyes settled on his daughter and he was once again struck with a combination of thankfulness over the fact that she was there – alive and whole after what must have been a traumatic and horrifying ordeal – and frustration over the fact that he’d been unable to protect her from it and the lingering effects it still had on her. He’d seen her nearly jump out of her skin when a car backfired down the road, and more than once had noticed how she would retreat into herself occasionally, lost in a memory that left a despairing look on her normally-bright face. She was coping amazingly well, but living through something like that changes you forever.

Hermione seemed to be able to read his mind as she met his gaze, her own chocolate orbs glistening with a sheen of tears.

“We’re alright, Dad, truly,” she reassured him, “I won’t say it wasn’t awful or terrifying, or that what happened doesn’t matter now, but we’re healing and moving forward and that’s really all we can do.” She inhaled a shaky breath and a small but genuine smile tugged on her lips, “Being back at Hogwarts this past year helped me tremendously; gave me a sense of normalcy after it all; showed me that what we fought for had a purpose.”

Both of her parents nodded in understanding and Hermione decided now was as good a time as any to ask the questions she’d been putting off since arriving in Redland.

“Do you think you will move back?”

Edward and Jeanette looked at each other for several long seconds before turning back to her with slightly nervous expressions on their faces.

“Well, we’ve actually talked about that a bit,” her father began, “You see, we had started tossing around the idea of moving when you entered your Fifth Year at Hogwarts.” This was unexpected news to Hermione and her eyes widened in surprise as she cocked her head in an invitation for him to continue.

“Our office in Britain was huge. We shared patients with twenty other dentists in a giant, sterile facility where we barely knew anyone by name without checking their file first. We,” he gestured to Jeanette who nodded in agreement, “always wanted something smaller and more personal, but that wasn’t going to happen there.”

“When you returned to school that year,” her mother continued the train of thought, “We started discussing possible options, since we knew by then that you would choose a job in the magical world. You’d already told us about the exams you’d be taking, and the possible career paths you might follow.” She shrugged and gave her daughter a small smile, hoping her beautiful, brilliant girl would understand.

“We might not have chosen Australia as our new location, but we’re very happy here, and our practice is exactly what we’d always imagined,” Edward explained. “We’re part of the community, we know our patients, we can choose our hours, it’s perfect, quite honestly.”

Hermione nodded, knowing what all of this was leading up to and finding that not only did she fully understand why they would choose to stay, but she was genuinely happy for them as well. She would miss having them close by, but it took some of the guilt away for having forced them into this exile in the first place.

“Would you be terribly upset with us if we didn’t move back?” Jeanette asked softly.

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “If you’re happy here, then you should definitely stay.” She looked at them both for a moment, “If we only had Muggle forms of transportation to rely on, it would be different, but I can come see you more easily than I could even when I was at school.” Not wanting them to think she wouldn’t miss them, she quickly added, “I’m sad you’ll be so far away, but we’ll write, and I’ll get a mobile once I’m back in London, yeah?”

Both of the Grangers looked relieved at how well she’d taken the news and smiled broadly at her.

“Yes, we will definitely keep in touch,” Jeanette leaned forward and grabbed her daughter’s hand, “It will all be just fine.”

“What do you want to do with the house?” Hermione asked.

“We thought about letting it, since we don’t owe on it, and we don’t really need or have room for everything in it,” Edward offered, “What would you think about that? With you being in the London area, the role of landlord would really fall on you.”

Hermione considered this for a minute or two before nodding decisively, “That would work. I’ll need to go put some of our personal effects in storage, but the house is basically unchanged since the day you left.”

“Could you send us a few things?” Jeanette asked quickly, seeming to recall something out of the blue, “I’d love to have our photo albums and some other items.”

“Of course! Make a list over the next few weeks and I’ll get on it first thing when I return,” the brunette witch was more than happy to do whatever her parents needed, and was extremely pleased with the way everything seemed to be working out.

With the business of the moment having been settled, the small family returned to less important topics of conversation as the fire died out and the stars twinkled a little brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!!! Thank you so much for joining me for this second work! This first chapter was a long one, but I really wanted to set the stage for where Hermione and her parents are at in their relationship, and give a feel for the conversations they'd had since being reunited. As you can already tell, life back in London is carrying on as Draco prepares for his new position at Hogwarts, and Harry continues to make a name for himself as an Auror (and yes, Dudley will be making an appearance later on!) Thanks again for reading, commenting, and sticking with me for Part Two :D


	2. Birthday Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's birthday approaches, and several unexpected moments are part of the celebration.

Just like clockwork, Tuesday afternoon at three o'clock, Harry appeared out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor for his twice-weekly visit with Narcissa and Draco. As had become his custom, he first poked his head into Andromeda’s rooms to say hello and visit with her and Teddy for a few minutes, but no one was there. Not thinking anything of it, he made his way to the library where he knew he’d find the other pair, along with an elaborate tea spread. He was not the least bit ashamed of admitting that tea at the Manor every week for over a year now had completely ruined him for the abysmal stuff served at the Ministry, or the pathetic attempts he made at home. The beverage itself wasn’t so much the issue, since it was fairly hard to ruin a cup of flavored hot water, but the biscuits, scones, and pastries that accompanied it were second-to-none in his book. Although he was positive Narcissa’s elves must use some sort of rare and expensive blend of tea because it was always so much more flavorful than anything he could manage.

He was mulling over this very thought as he breezed through the open doors of the large, book-filled room, only to stop short at the sight before him. Draco, Narcissa, Andromeda, and Teddy were all there, seated around a larger-than-usual table that was positively overflowing with baked goods, and in the middle stood a lovely chocolate cake with sparklers on top.

“Happy Birthday!” the family cheered in unison, Teddy joining in at the end with a happy squeal.

“But,” Harry began protesting despite the grin spreading across his face.

“I know it’s not for a few days still, but we wanted to make sure we could all be here at the same time to celebrate, so,” Narcissa trailed off as he neared the table and she gestured to the last empty armchair.

“Well, this is amazing,” Harry said appreciatively, “Thank you all, so much.”

Narcissa and Andromeda both smiled and immediately set about slicing cake and pouring tea for everyone. Teddy, who’d been passed off to Draco, was happily chewing on a biscuit while his cousin grimaced at the sticky crumbs multiplying all over his trousers and shirt. He heaved a long-suffering sigh and met Harry’s eyes, which were filled with amusement at the sight of the normally-fastidious Pureblood in such a state. Draco only had to suffer for another minute or so before Merry appeared to take Teddy off for his nap, casting a greatly appreciated cleaning charm on her master as she walked by.

“So, any big plans for your actual birthday, dear?” Andromeda asked.

“Not really,” Harry shrugged, “Since it falls on a weekday, I’ll be in the office for most of it. I think Ron is rounding up some of our friends to hit the Leaky later on.” He looked apologetically at Draco, “I wish I could invite you, mate, but I don’t think I can convince Kingsley that a night at the pub is a necessary part of your probation.”

Draco snorted and batted the statement away with his hand, “No problem. He’s been lenient enough with me this year, I don’t want to push my luck. Pretty sure the New Year’s Eve party wasn’t exactly what the Wizengamot would consider Ministry-sanctioned, anyway.” Both wizards snickered at that, knowing full well that it was true, and also that Kingsley couldn’t care less about what most of the members of the high court thought.

The afternoon continued with lively conversation and more sweets than any of them really needed, and stretched out much longer than Harry’s usual sessions at the grand estate. In fact, by the time he stood to take his leave, he realized the end of the work day was already upon him.

“While I suppose I _could_ pop back to the office to finish a bit of paperwork, I think I’m more inclined to just head home and let Kreacher fix me an early supper,” he stifled a yawn and grinned sheepishly at the other three who all stood as he did and started making their way towards the hall with him.

“Thank you, again, for the lovely celebration,” Harry gave each of the witches a hug and was turning to shake Draco’s hand when Andromeda piped up.

“Wait!” she cried as she bustled off down the hall, flapping her hand behind her to indicate he should stay put. He cocked a brow at both pale blondes, but they looked just as bemused as he. After a minute or two of speculation as to what it was all about, the dark-haired witch returned with a newly-wakened Teddy on her hip and a small package in her hand.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” she chuckled in an exasperated way, “But Teddy and I wanted to give you something little to recognize your nineteenth.”

Truly touched by the sentiment, Harry took the proffered gift and grinned at the sleepy toddler before unwrapping the shiny paper. What he found caused a lump to form in his throat. Though it was shrunk down to an eighth of its size – able to sit in the palm of his hand – he recognized Remus Lupin’s gramophone immediately. At once, his mind conjured the musical strains that used to fill his former professor’s office, and even his classroom on occasion. He looked up to see Andromeda watching him with a kind expression on her face.

“Thank you so much,” he managed to croak out, “This means a great deal to me.” She reached over and patted his arm.

“I knew it would,” she smiled even as her eyes shone with tears. Teddy leaned forward and imitated his grandmother’s action by patting Harry on the arm as well and babbling something at him with great emphasis. They all chuckled and Harry pocketed the treasure, promising to set it up in his drawing room as soon as he got back to Grimmauld.

“Speaking of,” Draco interjected, “Mind if I step through with you for a minute?”

Though it was an unusual request, Harry agreed at once and was too busy saying goodbye to Teddy to notice the look that was exchanged by the others. Once he was done, he headed to the foyer and the floo with Draco in tow.

“Was there something you needed?” the raven-haired wizard asked as they stepped out of the green flames into the cozy front room of Number Twelve.

“Not exactly,” Draco admitted, “I just wanted to go ahead and give you your birthday present as well, if that’s alright.”

Harry stopped and turned to look his former nemesis full in the face, a brow arched in mock seriousness, “Should I be concerned about this, seeing as you apparently couldn’t give whatever it is to me in front of your family?”

Draco laughed, “No, not at all. In fact, they know all about it, and it’s really from both Mother and I. It just wasn’t something I could carry around.” As he spoke, he walked out of the drawing room and into the front hall where the sconces lit automatically and the drape covering Mrs. Black’s portrait swayed as the air moved with their arrival. He stopped next to the wall where the portrait hung and turned to Harry with a knowing smirk. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of doing a bit of redecorating,” and with a flourish he removed the heavy fabric to reveal not the unpleasant visage of Walburga, but a much newer, much more welcoming portrait of Sirius Black, who immediately broke into a wide grin at the sight of his godson.

Harry was stunned. He knew he must look like a goldfish with his eyes goggling and his mouth opening and closing without sound, but he was just absolutely gobsmacked. His eyes flickered between Draco’s and Sirius’ fast enough to make his head spin until finally they took pity on him and started talking.

“So, Harry,” began Sirius, and his deep, gravelly voice washing over the young man like a calming breeze, “Been awhile, hasn’t it?” He smiled and Harry noted the familiar laugh lines around his dark brown eyes, the teasing arch of his brow, and the mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had missed his godfather, of course, but until this moment he hadn’t realize quite how much and wasn’t sure he could formulate words around the tightness of his throat. He looked between the two wizards again, this time settling on Draco who had been quietly standing off to the side.

“Malfoy,” he choked out and extended his hand to his former-rival, but when Draco clasped it, Harry pulled him into a one-armed hug he knew would make the tall Pureblood uncomfortable, but didn’t much care at the moment. He clapped Draco on the back and pulled away, still clutching his hand firmly, “Thank you.”

Grey eyes met green in solid understanding and Draco simply nodded. Once Harry released his grip, the pale blonde gestured to the portrait, “Shall I tell you how this was achieved? And what happened to dear old Walburga?”

Sirius barked out a laugh that still resembled his four-legged counterpart while Harry nodded vehemently, “Absolutely. I thought she was permanently fixed there? Unsticking charm, multiple wards, the whole lot?”

“She was, but after discussing it with Mother, Andromeda, and the artist whose done all the other portraits, it was deduced that while the frame can’t be removed from the wall, the actual paint _could_ be removed from the canvas with the help of a blood-related family member and a tricky bit of wand work.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Sirius chimed in, “Of course, my mother never told any of us that little secret, but apparently there are other portraits in other ancestral homes that have caused a spot of trouble over the years. My cousins were able to sort it all out, as you can see.” He crossed his arms and gave a smug smirk.

“Mother and Andromeda were quite pleased with themselves,” Draco chuckled, “They were over here earlier today making sure everything went smoothly.” He looked worryingly at Harry as he said that, “I hope it’s okay that they came here without your permission. Andromeda owled Shaklebolt last week and he was all for it, and since your floo is always connected to ours…” he forced himself to stop rambling and braced for any reprimand the Bespectacled One might deliver.

“Not at all,” Harry waved the thought away like a bothersome fly, “You know your family is welcome here anytime, and this is absolutely brilliant.” His youthful face broke out into a beaming smile as he turned his attention back to Sirius, “Has Kreacher seen you yet?”

“Yes, and surprisingly enough he didn’t throw anything at my head or try to curse me away,” Sirius mused, “A bit shocking, really.”

“Well, he’s seemed to have a change of heart all-around,” Harry offered, “Even calls Hermione, ‘Miss’ and is just as respectful to her as he is to me.”

Sirius’ brows had shot up at that revelation, remembering just how deeply entrenched in Pureblood beliefs the wizened elf had previously been. Seeing his disbelief, Harry immediately launched into the story of how Kreacher kept his former mistress silent during the New Year’s party, as well as his highly amusing attachment to Roy, the puff-mouse. Draco saw this as his opportunity to exit and bid both wizards farewell before slipping back through the floo in a whoosh of green flames, grinning to himself and feeling quite pleased that they’d managed to pull off the birthday surprise for his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Draco and Hermione are still the main focus of this story, the relationship between Harry and Draco is also extremely important to me. I honestly feel like they would be really good friends if circumstances had been different, so this story is my way of building on that connection :) Thanks so much for reading, and for continuing on with me in this sequel! <3


	3. Applying Oneself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione focuses on things she'd like to accomplish, and plans a little surprise for her parents.

Once the calendar hit August 1st, Hermione decided it was time to stop lazing about and actually get some things done - put some things in motion - for her return to Britain in a few weeks’ time. As per usual, the first thing she did was write a list.

_Owl Robards about visiting the department_

_Who to see?_

_What requirements necessary?_

_Mastery? In what?_

_Legal representation for sentient,_

_non/part humans?_

_Latest review of legislation?_

_Ask Harry to store boxes at Grimmauld once house is let_

_Place advert in the paper re: house_

_Check adverts for flats near/in Diagon_

_Connect with Dean re: September GN_

_Owl McGonagall date and floo time_

_Owl Narcissa_

_Ask Kingsley about permanent portkey_

She knew she’d be adding to it as the days went on, but at least it was a start. In an attempt to prepare for her appointment at the Ministry, she began putting together a portfolio of sorts that included her marks from Hogwarts, her O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. results (which she had just received the week before and was immensely pleased to have managed Outstandings in every one), and a brief description of the type of work she wanted to do on behalf of magical beings. She wasn’t sure what else to include, and decided to ponder that further while she tackled her other tasks.

Even though there was no rush whatsoever to her days in Redland, each one breezing by in a pleasantly slow cadence, the time with her parents still seemed to be passing rather quickly. On the one hand, she was glad the lack of schedule or activity hadn’t dragged and took that to mean she’d most definitely needed the break. At the very least she felt lighter and more well-rested than she had in ages. Even though being back at school had been an undeniable source of comfort to her, the stress of classes and exams, and the hectic day-to-day pace left much to be desired as far as relaxation and quietude were concerned.

On the other hand, she would be lying if she said that having only three more weeks to spend with her mother and father wasn’t causing more than a little pang of regret and melancholy. They had covered so much ground together since graduation, managed the difficult conversations, and grown exponentially closer as a result of it all, and she was loath to put distance between herself and them once more. However, when she forced herself to look at it from a logical point of view, taking a job in the magical world would mean distance from them regardless, and expecting them to leave a life that clearly made them very happy, solely so she could have them on the same continent, was rather selfish.

She had already decided to get them an owl of their own since her father clearly enjoyed having a feathered friend around, though she wasn’t about to give up Cyrene as she was a gift from Draco. She planned to take her parents into the small magical community on the outskirts of Brisbane so they could choose a new courier, as well as a few items she hoped would help them feel more connected to her in the Wizarding World. Her mother had been absolutely fascinated with the greenhouses at Hogwarts and the many uses for the plants within, so Hermione thought it would be nice to help her start a small garden in the backyard with some of the more common, homeopathic species. Plants were plants, after all, and aside from a little bit of magical fertilizer, all they would need was the traditional water and sunlight required by any others.

Another idea that had come to her out of the blue one afternoon while penning yet another letter to Draco, was that of a two-way journal. Using two-way parchment was an easy way for students to pass notes during class, but she had wondered if it could also be used for long-distance correspondence. Spelling a pair of papers, she’d sent one to Ginny, asking her to try it out. Lo and behold, a few days later, a message appeared on the blank sheet, which she responded to at once, sending the two witches into a ridiculous conversation about whether or not it would work on other surfaces. Apparently Ginny was curious about leaving messages or even drawings on articles of clothing, some sort of payback for a prank George had recently pulled on her.

Finding her attempt at transatlantic communication successful, Hermione set about tweaking the spell in such a way so that the lines of script did not disappear shortly after being written. She also began working on casting the charm on something more substantial than a single parchment, and fiddled with spelling the quill as well, or even the ink. Eventually, she’d reached a result deemed satisfactory and created two sets of two-way journals, one to share with her parents, and one for her and Draco. Each was spelled to only receive messages from its mate, and each only able to be written in with a specific quill. It had taken quite a bit of unique and involved magic to create them, and she was rather pleased with herself when it was all said and done.

Feeling more accomplished than she had in weeks, she decided to reward her burst of ingenuity with another stroll on the beach, where she hoped to find more interesting shells to add to her collection.

ooOoo

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hello! How are you? I hope your time with your parents is going well. I hear Australia is lovely, and this is the perfect time of year to spot a specific breed of Demiguise, found only in the Outback. Although, given their talents, I doubt many people are able to see them. I supposed one could walk right by a whole cluster of them and not even know it. Unfortunate, really. They’re quite fascinating._

_Anyway, Daddy, Theo, and I have just returned home from an entire month in Africa, following a large flock of Fwoopers as they migrated from the southern coast to the northern plains. It was an incredible experience, and I’ve a whole sketchbook filled with drawings of both the birds and the landscape. I brought back an eggshell that had been cracked into two perfect pieces when the chick hatched, so I was able to repair it and it looks brand new now!_

_Daddy’s biggest achievement was completing a map of their migration route. He plans to write an article for the Comprehensive Creature Journal detailing his findings, in the hopes that they’ll print it in next year’s publication. Of course, he’ll run several stories about his experience in The Quibbler, too. You get a subscription, don’t you? If not, I’ll make sure to send you one._

_Having Theo along was wonderful. I so enjoy his company, and he seemed very happy with us. He hasn’t had a bout of Nargles or Wrackspurts in ages, and I’ve noticed he smiles a lot more now than he did when we all first moved into the Room. He smiled then, I guess, but it never went deeper than his skin. Now, he smiles from inside, too. He needed to go home to meet with his solicitor and sign some papers, so he’s gone for a week or so. I think he was planning to see Draco at some point, as well. How is Draco? He’s another person who didn’t used to know how to smile. He does now; has since last September. I’m sure you’ve noticed._

_When are you coming back? I would love to see you; maybe we could catch up over tea at that new little shop in Diagon. I hear they have exotic blends and that the owner will read your cup when you finish. I think that would be fascinating, especially since Professor Trelawney is the only other Seer I’ve ever known, and I’m not sure she always interprets it correctly. Or, perhaps I’ve just studied a different set of symbols and their meanings. It’s all very subjective, isn’t it?_

_I’ll end here. I need to replant the ever-expanding Flutterby Bushes in our garden, and I’m thinking it’s time to add some new faces to the mural on my ceiling. I’m quite sure I can fit the rest of our housemates in a second circle around the original five portraits. I’ll let you know how it goes._

_I miss you! Hope to see you soon!_

_Love,_

_Luna_

Hermione smiled and let out an amused sigh as she finished reading the letter from her ethereal friend. It sounded as if the Lovegoods' adventure had been a success, which was nice to hear. She didn’t doubt for a second that Xenophilius’ article would be extremely detailed and full of valuable information, though she wondered if the eccentric man would be able to word it in such a way as to appease the academic mindset of those who produced the highly-esteemed journal. She did, however, already have a subscription to _The Quibbler_ and looked forward to reading whatever he published there regarding his pursuits.

Luna’s descriptions of Theo and Draco had gripped her heart; she knew exactly what the sweet witch was referring to and was so very thankful that time and circumstances had changed for the two young men enough to grant them a more positive, more peaceful outlook on life. Though she hadn’t known Theo before their Eighth Year, she couldn’t imagine him being anything but the snarky, jovial, comic relief he’d been as her housemate, even though she knew there hadn’t been much for him to joke about in years prior.

And Draco… Where to even begin when it came to the pale blonde. Hermione had a hard time reconciling the wizard she had fallen in love with, with the arrogant bully she used to despise. She often felt like the war had drawn a line through time and that anyone who lived to cross it was no longer the same person. She knew she wasn’t, knew Harry wasn’t either. None of them were, Draco included, and maybe most of all. Luna was right; he knew how to smile from the inside now and she treasured that with all her heart.

Thinking of her favorite wizard, she realized how much she missed him and how very ready she was to see him in person again. He didn’t know it, but she and Narcissa had planned a small surprise for him the weekend before he was to return to Hogwarts. Hermione had already scheduled a portkey for the third Friday of the month, and would still be arriving at Grimmauld that morning, but later that afternoon would floo to the Manor. Narcissa wanted to have a dinner party, and while she was not allowed to host any elaborate events due to her probation, she’d been granted permission to invite the young witch to come and stay for a few days, and knew her son would be more thrilled with the company of that one particular guest than with a ballroom filled with hundreds of others. The tricky part was that Narcissa wanted Hermione’s presence to be kept a secret until Draco entered the dining room, which meant hiding her away for a bit. She giggled at the thought of having to crouch behind chairs or sneak into closets to avoid detection, but knew the Manor was more than large enough to provide cover for one, singular witch.

ooOoo

In preparation for returning to Britain, Hermione planned a little dinner party of her own. The second Friday of the month, she spent the entire day cooking up a storm while her parents were at work. She knew it was far enough in advance of her departure that they wouldn’t expect it, and was excited to surprise them in this way. She’d decided to feature some of her mother and father’s favorite dishes, including appetizers, salad, entrée, and dessert, as well as a bottle of their favorite wine, and a bottle of Rosmerta’s mead that she’d brought along and kept stashed away for a special occasion.

While their kitchen table was cozy and familiar, she opted for something just a tad grander, and set up a lovely tablescape out in the backyard. The scrubbed wooden surface was covered with a white linen cloth, with a gold and white brocade runner down the center. The chargers were brushed gold, and on top of them sat a salad of mixed greens, fresh berries and goat cheese, protected from bugs and breezes by a stasis charm. A vase of fragrant blooms in shades of white, pink, and coral, with greenery interspersed graced the center of the table, and several candles of varying height balanced off each end.

She’d already lit the fire pit, which added a lovely glow to the space, and had strung white lights on the back porch, where appetizers were set up on the low table between the Adirondack chairs. On the other end of the porch, a metal cart held a layered chocolate cake with raspberry buttercream filling, drizzled with dark chocolate ganache and raspberry coulis, with supplies for slicing and serving stacked next to it. The main course was being kept warm in the oven, and even the water glasses had already been filled. Everything was ready, she just needed her guests of honor.

Edward and Jeanette came through the front door like clockwork, chatting with each other about their day while setting down their belongings and kicking off their shoes. As they ambled through the living room, Edward stopped and inhaled deeply, a smile curving his lips as he recognized the smell.

“Is that osso buco?” he called out and Hermione appeared around the corner of the doorway into the kitchen.

“Maybe,” she teased.

“What have you been up to?” Jeanette noticed the sparkle in her daughter’s eyes and knew something was in store for them.

“Oh, not much,” the curly-haired witch smirked, “I just felt like cooking something a little fancy today.” She tilted her head towards the back door, inviting her parents to head out in front of her.

“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed Jeanette, taking in the scene before her.

“Someone’s been a busy bee,” Edward remarked as he wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze, “This looks amazing, sweetie.”

“Thanks, I had fun getting it all ready,” she replied, popping up on tiptoe and placing a kiss on his cheek before grabbing her mom’s hand and tugging her towards the hors d’oeuvres.

They settled in and enjoyed the assortment of pre-dinner snacks: crackers with a dill and cream cheese spread, topped with thin slices of cucumber, cold shrimp with a red, spicy dipping sauce, and small bamboo skewers holding black olives, artichoke hearts, and cubes of salami and provolone. Her parents filled her in on some of their more amusing patients, and she updated them with Luna’s letter and the finalization of her plans with Narcissa.

“Oh, Draco will be so happy to see you,” Jeanette beamed, “I wish he could have come here for a few days. Maybe next year?” Her tone was hopeful and her eyes held a knowing twinkle.

“I hope so,” Hermione couldn’t help the smile that lit her face at the thought of the handsome wizard, “I know he’d like to.” It dawned on her then, that this time next year would still be only two years into his three-year probation, which meant no international travel. Her countenance fell slightly, and her mother must have realized the cause for she quickly interjected.

“Or whenever he’s able to,” she leaned across and patted her daughter’s knee, “He’s welcome any time, you know that.”

And Hermione did. She knew her folks had taken an immediate and deep liking to her boyfriend, which she acknowledged was largely in part due to his efforts to reunite their little family, but both of them had commented on separate occasions how impressed they were with him, and how much they enjoyed talking with him after graduation. She was well aware of the fact that not many parents would be so accepting of their child dating someone who was basically a paroled convict, and was tremendously grateful for their understanding of the situation. They, like herself, saw Draco for who he was now, who he was striving to become, and not who he had been before.

As the sun started making its way below the tree line, she ushered her parents to the table where they enjoyed their salads, followed by steaming bowls of the veal and vegetable stew served over risotto. As they ate, they discussed plans for the upcoming months and when they might get to see each other again.

“I’ve no idea what will come of my visit to the Ministry, but even if I do start a new job, I’ll still have weekends free,” Hermione offered.

“We could plan to come visit mid or late autumn?” Jeanette suggested.

“That would be fine. Harry has plenty of room at Grimmauld if I’m still living there,” Hermione couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, “And you’ll get to meet Kreacher!”

“Is that the grumpy little elf that lives there?” Edward asked.

“Yes, although he’s been quite a bit nicer this year.”

“Would you take us to see the joke shop?” Jeanette wondered.

“Oh, yes, most definitely. I know Ron and George would love to show you around!”

“That’s settled then,” Edward clapped his hands together, “We’ll plan a trip for end of October, or early November, based on your schedule. We only need a few weeks’ notice to close the office, especially if it’s just going to be for a long weekend.”

Hermione nodded, very happy to already have a tentative plan in place for them to see one another again. She decided that, since they were on the topic of keeping in touch, that she’d give them the journal she’d created. As expected, they exclaimed over the magic of it, and both insisted on trying it out. Her mother jotted down a quick line right there at the table and watched in amazement as her own words appeared on the first page of Hermione’s book. Her father, on the other hand, took the journal and made his way back into the house and apparently out the front door and a little ways down the street where he wrote a simple greeting, wanting to see if it worked from “farther away.” Of course it did, and his daughter sent back a smiley face in response.

“This is terrific,” Edward remarked as he settled back into his seat at the table. “Much quicker than sending letters with the owls, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Hermione agreed, “Although I would like to continue using the birds for bigger post, if that’s alright?”

“Of course dear, but you won’t leave Cyrene here, will you?” her mother sounded surprised.

“No, she’ll be coming with me, but I was hoping we could go to Brisbane this weekend. There’s a magical community there and I wanted to get you your own owl.” The delighted expressions on her parents’ faces confirmed to her that this was a good idea.

“A magical community? Here?” Jeanette was bemused, “Where? Don’t people notice?”

Hermione chuckled, “No, it’s like Diagon. Non-magical folks don’t notice the alley there, right?” Her parents nodded, so she continued, “Same thing here. It’s hidden from view unless you’re a witch or a wizard. I’ve already looked it up, and apparently you get there by walking through what appears to be a broken-down ticket booth near a theater.”

“Sounds exciting,” Edward grinned, “We can go tomorrow if you want?”

Dessert was served as the Grangers discussed plans for the next day, all of them excited for a little adventure together before Hermione would need to head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely readers! I hope all of you are hanging in there during this crazy season. I have good news (at least I think it's good news) - I'll be able to start posting two chapters every week now! I think my schedule will be Mondays and Thursdays, unless I make a note otherwise. While this quarantine has taken a lot of things away, it has given me extra time to get my thoughts organized and typed out, so the story is building at a quicker pace now.  
> Speaking of the story, letters between characters are going to play an important part of this one, with the Eighth Years being so spread apart. It gives us a chance to know what's going on in their lives without having to orchestrate in-person encounters more than the monthly Game Night, if that makes sense.  
> Thank you so much for sticking with me for the second part of this creative journey - I appreciate each of you more than you know! <3


	4. Meetings and Marrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco spends the day at the Ministry, and sees some familiar faces.

Draco’s visit with Kingsley had gone extremely well. Harry had come to the Manor and floo’d with him directly into the Auror Department, which had made him slightly anxious, but as he walked through the corridors and across the main bullpen, his nerves settled considerably. Ron (who just “happened” to have dropped by the office), greeted him with a friendly grin and a handshake, as did Miles Bletchley (who Draco hadn’t known was an Auror) and Angelina (who worked in the filing office for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement). He was also approached by several strangers; a wizard whose brother worked at a shop in Hogsmeade and had perished in the Battle, and a witch whose father had died the year before at the hands of Death Eaters, both of whom had received portraits, as well as a handful of others who simply had heard of his philanthropic efforts and wanted to express their appreciation.

It took quite a bit longer to make the journey to the Minister’s office, and Draco was worried he’d be late, but once they finally made it to the lifts Harry explained he’d planned ahead for the reception he assumed would take place, and that Kingsley wasn’t expecting them for another ten minutes.

Smiling rather smugly, the raven-haired wizard remarked, “See? I told you there’d be no problem. The tide has drastically turned in your favor over the course of this past year, due to the widely publicized attempts you’ve been making to improve your family name.”

“Just how widely publicized are we talking?” Draco looked at him, arching a pale brow.

“Oh, pretty much every portrait that’s been presented has been featured in the _Prophet_ along with a line or two about your generosity and your mother’s kind heart.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmmm.”

“And how, exactly, has the Prophet known about each of those?”

“Oh, you know, people talk,” Harry’s self-satisfied smirk had turned into a full-blown Cheshire cat grin as they exited the lift and continued down the hall. “Of course, it helps when every recipient of said portraits has been encouraged to contact a particular journalist.”

At this admission, Draco halted mid-step, “There’s no way Rita Skeeter would publish complimentary things about my family.” After his release from Azkaban, Draco had basically stopped reading the paper altogether, as he had no desire to hear about Death Eater trials. He’d assumed nothing written about the Malfoy name would be beneficial to his tattered self-esteem, nor did he care about the more frivolous articles that filled the pages. Apparently, however, he’d missed some positive publicity along the way.

Harry chuckled wryly, “No, Rita doesn’t write anything nice about anyone, really, does she? No, it’s Thomas Creevey; Dennis and Andrew’s uncle. He’s one of the leading photographers at the paper, but he writes a small column every week in the society pages, and ever since Colin’s portrait was delivered, he’s been running stories about each family. Just sat down with him last week, myself.”

“Did you, now?” the pair resumed walking towards the Minister’s suite of offices.

“Yup. Told Thomas how pleased I was with your rehabilitation, and how honored I am to call a former reprobate my friend,” he snorted and Draco shoved him lightly into the wall, both of the young men laughing as they rounded the corner and almost bumped into Kingsley.

“Harry, Draco,” his deep voice and startling presence drew them up short and put a stop to their antics, though his dark eyes were twinkling and the corner of his mouth was twitching as if he was trying to hide a smile. “Was just about to see if you’d arrived on the premises. Please,” he gestured towards a pair of shiny and ornately-carved wooden doors, just beyond a sizeable reception area containing several chairs, a sofa, a coffee table, and a large desk, behind which sat an older woman who looked very much like Minerva McGonagall, with her grey hair pulled back in a tight bun and her spectacles resting on the tip of her nose. She regarded the visitors with stern disapproval, which only made both of them want to laugh even more.

Once inside the Minister’s office, Harry and Draco took seats across the wide and substantially cluttered desk from Kingsley, as instructed. After initial greetings and pleasantries were exchanged, the topic shifted to the purpose of their visit.

“Alright, Harry, we’ll start with your part,” Kingsley pulled a file folder from the mountain on his desk and flipped it open, taking a second to scan the contents of the first page. “It is customary at this juncture to ask if either of you has any problems with the other; whether a formal complaint needs to be logged, or a request for a new liaison needs to be made?”

Harry and Draco were both caught off-guard by this, and glanced at each other nervously, both hoping the other was happy with the arrangement but not wanting to assume. Green eyes widened as a black brow cocked in question while grey eyes blinked and a small shrug was given. The unlikely friends turned back to Shaklebolt, who was watching the whole thing with mild amusement, and shook their head indicating that nothing needed to change.

“Very good,” Kingsley chuckled, “I had figured as much, but didn’t want to sign off officially until I had asked.” Dipping an ornate quill into the inkpot, he signed his name with flourish at the bottom of the page. Turning that one over, a second sheet was revealed with what appeared to be a list or outline covering most of its surface. “Secondly, we need to review the plans and procedures for this second year of your probation,” he directed his attention to Draco as he spoke, and the pale blonde nodded in understanding.

For the next three weeks, Draco would still be at the Manor, finishing up his summer holiday. Towards the end of August, he would return to Hogwarts where he would move into his quarters there, and begin preparing for his dual position as DA Assistant and Flying Instructor. Back at the school, his weekly meetings with Harry would continue once a schedule had been set, and the same stipulations still applied as the year before, meaning that he could not travel internationally at all, except between Hogwarts and the Manor for holidays, and only with Harry to accompany him. He also was not allowed to leave the castle grounds, which technically meant he wasn’t supposed to go into Hogsmeade. Upon realizing he’d broken that particular rule just a few months earlier, he met Shaklebolt’s gaze with more than a little trepidation.

“Sir, I didn’t even think about Hogsmeade last year,” he began, feeling the blood drain from his face and his hands start to get clammy.

Kingsley waved his hand in dismissal of Draco’s concerns and smiled kindly, “Minerva owled me right after you and your housemates presented your idea to her about taking your First Years. I told her it was fine; that it would be unfair for your young charges to miss out. Plus, I fully supported the Headmistress’ belief that you had no intention of running away or using the outing as a means to escape the confines of your sentencing.” He smiled good-naturedly and the younger wizard relaxed considerably now that he knew he wasn’t going to be reprimanded or punished for the truly honest mistake. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the neighboring village was “off grounds,” and as a result, technically beyond his limited boundaries.

“As a staff member, you will be expected to chaperone Hogsmeade weekends occasionally, so I have officially made the surrounding area part of the borders within which you are allowed to roam,” he gestured to the parchment in front of him. “Minerva will have copies of all of this, should anyone question the parameters. Also, the stipulations on your correspondence has been somewhat relaxed.”

Draco’s brows shot up in question at this unexpected announcement and Kingsley smiled as he continued, “You may send letters to your family and close friends without Ministry review, so Harry no longer has to play the middle-man.” At this all three of them chuckled, and a pair of bright green eyes were rolled in amused relief. “The same will be true for Narcissa. The only letters that would need to be reviewed would be ones sent to individuals outside your immediate circle, such as business owners you might place an order with, or distant acquaintances that might show up as a red flag in your case files. The former you can still ask for Harry’s assistance with, and the latter I doubt you will have need for anyway.”

“Definitely not. Thank you, sir,” Draco said appreciatively.

Kingsley nodded before turning his attention to Harry, “Do you have any questions about this year’s arrangements?”

“Not for myself,” Harry gave a small smile, “But are there any limitations regarding visitors? Is Malfoy allowed to have friends pop in?” He snuck a glance at Draco whose cheeks had tinged pink as he registered what Harry was asking. While he’d wondered if Hermione would be able to visit, he’d never considered needing to ask for specific permission, nor did he feel comfortable broaching the subject with the Minister of Magic.

Kingsley chuckled knowingly and pinned the embarrassed Pureblood with a teasing glint in his eye, “Since any visitor to the school must be cleared by the Headmistress, it will be entirely within Minerva’s discretion to decide who can and cannot enter the castle’s wards. Somehow I doubt she would ever refuse Hermione Granger anything.” All three men gave amused huffs at that entirely true statement before Shaklebolt continued, “The only guests Draco would ever be forbidden from entertaining would be anyone considered a threat; anyone formerly connected to Voldemort. I trust you no longer maintain those connections?”

“Absolutely not, sir,” came Draco’s immediate and vehement reply.

Kingsley nodded, satisfied that everything had been covered accordingly before addressing Harry once more, “The rest of our conversation does not concern your role as a liaison, Harry, so you can head back down to your office. I’ll make sure Draco finds you when we’re finished.” It was all stated in a very friendly and matter-of-fact way, but was an undeniable dismissal all the same, and so the Chosen One politely took his leave, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The Minister settled back into his chair more comfortably and simply observed the wizard before him for a minute or two. While it was a tiny bit unnerving to be under such scrutiny, Draco didn’t feel like he was about to be taken to task, as he often did in McGonagall’s office, even under completely benign circumstances. He met Kingsley’s stare in between perusing the items on the desk and glancing around the opulent office. Finally, the older wizard’s low baritone broke the silence.

“I’m very proud of you, Draco,” he began and was heartened to see the Malfoy heir’s brows raise in question. In years past, praise would have been expected or assumed, and the fact that it no longer was spoke volumes to the change the young man had gone through. “I’m also very pleased with the opportunities that have presented themselves for this coming year. I think it will be a fantastic way to broaden your career horizon, while at the same time continuing to rebuild your reputation in the Wizarding World at large.” Draco cocked his head in question, clearly curious as to what was meant. “Hogwarts might be in a remote location, but children write to their parents, and staff members correspond with friends and family outside the walls, too. Even the shopkeepers in Hogsmeade share bits of information with customers and neighbors. Every positive comment is another step in the right direction, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Draco nodded in understanding, knowing it was true. Both Olivia and Christopher’s families had known about him and his role in their lives, as had Andrew’s and several other younger students. News of all kinds traveled fast and for once he was happy to be on the positive end of the conversation spectrum.

Almost a full hour passed in the Minister’s office with Draco answering whatever questions Kingsley had about his family, his past, his future plans, even his relationship with Hermione. He found the dark-skinned wizard to be an easy person to talk to, and was completely honest in everything he shared. Towards the end of their time together, Shaklebolt asked if he or his mother had heard anything about Lucius and Draco hadn’t been able to stop the way his jaw clenched or his muscles tightened at the mention of his father.

“No, sir, we haven’t heard anything at all,” he bit out as politely as possible, “I haven’t seen my father since they took him away after the Battle, and neither my mother nor I have written to him or received word regarding him.” As far as he was concerned, it could stay that way, too.

Kingsley nodded as he stood, and Draco followed suit. As they exited the office, he was surprised to find a familiar face in the reception area. Daniel Carson was sitting in one of the armchairs, scanning the pages of a months-old issue of _Witch Weekly_ , which had been on the coffee table. Upon seeing them emerge from behind closed doors, the curse-breaker stood with a wide grin and strode over to greet them.

“Hello, Minister,” he said genially, shaking Kingsley’s hand and then turning to Draco, whose hand he shook while also pulling him in for a quick slap on the back, “Good to see you, Draco!”

“You too, Carson,” Draco grinned.

“Bill told me you’d be here this week, so I asked the Minister if I could swing by for a minute,” Carson explained, “You have time for a quick lunch in the café?”

Draco looked to Kingsley for permission, which was granted with a nod and a kind smile before the Minister bid them both farewell and reminded Carson to deliver his guest back to the Auror Department when they were through.

Feeling immensely pleased and flattered that Carson would take time from his busy day to come over to the Ministry just to catch up with him, Draco followed the wiry wizard through the halls, into the lift, across the Atrium, and into the cafeteria without even registering the second looks and gaping expressions his presence incurred. Carson was rapidly explaining everything that had happened in the wake of the Eighth Year’s trip to Gringotts, and Draco was completely enthralled.

“So, all that to say, books are sometimes _not_ our friends, and you should always be extremely careful when choosing a hiding place for your stuff,” he sniggered and rolled his eyes. “I’m happy to say that we’ve been sailing on much calmer seas since you lot came in. Nothing more exciting than an ancient suit of armor that tries to strangle anyone within reach.”

Draco’s eyes widened, since he clearly wouldn’t consider that sort of event “not exciting,” and chuckled as he thought about the other curses he knew the team had come in contact with. “Everyone alright, then?” he asked as they found a table in the busy café and settled into their chairs as menus appeared in front of them.

“Oh, yes,” Carson nodded enthusiastically, “Galini went back to Egypt with a small team last week, but everyone else you met in March is still here.” They paused the conversation to order their meals, which magically appeared in front of them just a few minutes later.

“You might be pleased to know that we’ve adjusted some of our safety procedures since your field trip,” the older wizard chuckled wryly and Draco couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face. “We’ve bulked up on the protective shield, and have also added a few steps to the protocol when swapping team members in and out of active diagnostics.”

Draco nodded, understanding the reasoning behind this move and feeling it was a solid decision, “What became of the cursed book once you were able to access it?”

“Well, at first it sat on a small table, surrounded by a massively protective shield, and no one wanted to touch it for a few days,” both wizards snorted in dry agreement before Carson continued, “Once a couple of brave souls volunteered to finalize the tests and actually touch the thing, we found it was really quite harmless. It basically amounted to a small amount of dark magic, combined with ridiculously strong wards, as well as prolonged contact with an extremely magical area for a very long time, centuries, actually.”

“Wow,” Draco mused, “A perfect storm, really.”

“Exactly,” Carson nodded succinctly, “It’s been a valuable experience for all of us, since we’d never before encountered an object that had been so affected by its location. Might have been the longest report I’ve ever written.”

Both wizards snickered at that and launched into a new topic of conversation as they continued their lunch. Eventually, their empty plates were vanished and Draco knew he needed to head back to the Auror Department before Harry began to wonder where he’d gone off to. Carson offered to walk with him, citing an interest in seeing more of the Ministry as his reason, but Draco suspected the Minister had asked the curse-breaker to accompany him as a buffer from any unpleasant interactions, and he found he greatly appreciated the gesture.

Upon reaching the designated floor, he showed Carson to Harry’s office, where the Golden Boy was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment while simultaneously dictating another message to a quill floating in mid-air with a corresponding scroll. The visitors let him finish his thought before interrupting, while somewhere in the back of Draco’s brain he registered how official and capable his friend appeared in his role. Suffice to say, he was impressed, though he had no intention of sharing that complimentary bit of news with the Green-Eyed Wonder, no matter how close they’d gotten over the past year. Instead, he chuckled to himself and shook his head as the young Auror welcomed them in and attempted to straighten up his overwhelmingly crowded desk, while trying to find places to put the files that had previously taken up the chairs he was offering his guests.

They chatted for several minutes, with Harry asking a series of questions similar to Draco’s regarding the previous events with the dangerously cursed object, since his court-appointed friend had told him all about it. Carson was happy to fill him in, and shortly after bid them farewell as he needed to head back to work.

“I suppose I should get you back to the Manor,” Harry studied the tall blonde, noting that he looked markedly more relaxed than he had upon arriving at the Ministry earlier in the day. “Everything go alright?”

“Yes, Shacklebolt was much less intimidating than I’d expected, and then Carson took me to lunch in the café.”

“Anyone give you a hard time?”

“No, though I must admit I wasn’t paying much attention to anyone else during lunch. Carson knows how to keep an audience,” Draco chuckled, once again appreciating the role the enthusiastic wizard had played in his experience that day.

“Good,” Harry said decisively, “I told you people are much more supportive of you and your mother these days.”

“Yes, yes, once again, you were right,” Draco huffed dramatically, “I’m getting quite tired of repeating that phrase, Potter.”

Harry grinned, “Well, I’m not about to pass up an opportunity to hear it, am I?” Draco groaned in response, but a good-natured smirk crossed his features as he followed his raven-haired escort to the floo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday, all! I hope this week has treated each of you well - hope everyone is still plugging along amidst all the craziness. I will be entirely honest and say that writing has been my refuge during this whole thing; spending time in my favorite fictional world (both reading and writing) has helped make the monotony more enjoyable. I hope you are all able to find something that provides the same for you, too <3  
> I'm super excited about the next few chapters, as Draco and Hermione are reunited for a few days, and then as he returns to Hogwarts to start his new job. Thanks so much for reading! I can't tell you how much I appreciate all your comments and feedback!


	5. Next in Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione returns to England and reaquaints herself with the residents of Grimmauld Place before preparing for her weekend at the Manor.

All good things must come to an end, and Hermione’s time in Redland was no exception. Her last days were spent making sure her parents were set up with multiple means of communication, checking items off her to-do list, corresponding with friends, and making plans for after she returned and settled back into life in Wizarding Britain. Draco still had no idea he’d be seeing her on Friday evening, and she was beside herself with excitement and a little bit of anxiety, if she was totally honest. Their last days together at Hogwarts had been a whirlwind of emotions; what with the commencement exercises, the sudden appearance of her parents, saying goodbye to her housemates and friends, not to mention the castle that had been her home for seven years, and changing course at top speed in order to spend the summer abroad. She was sure her head had been spinning for days afterward, and only vaguely remembered the private farewell she and Draco had managed as he’d walked her back down to Hogsmeade on Sunday morning so she could meet up with her parents.

Their letters to each other had been consistent, and she knew her feelings for him hadn’t changed in the slightest. In fact, if anything, his efforts to reunite her family had boosted her already high esteem of him even further, and she doubted she’d ever encounter anyone else who could live up to her opinion of the tall blonde. She’d missed him tremendously and spent more time than she’d cared to admit staring at the photos and album Hannah had given her. The “Twister Pic,” as she’d taken to referring to her favorite image of him, had lived under her pillow all summer and never failed to bring a blush to her cheeks and a tingle up her spine anytime she glanced at it.

No, she wasn’t worried about her side of the relationship at all. Nor was she worried about Draco’s, not exactly anyway. More just, hoping he’d missed her as much as she’d missed him; hoping he’d not gotten tired of having her for a girlfriend; hoping he’d be excited to see her. They’d officially been together for almost nine months, and even though they’d both said the “L word,” and had talked about a future beyond graduation, she knew that realistically, young couples didn’t always last once the familiar routine of school was gone. Even more so when long-distance was at play, which it would continue to be for them. The thought of not having him in her life made her heart hurt and she was determined to put her doubts aside and focus positively on whatever was next for them.

This train of thought repeatedly made a circuit through her mind as her final week in Redland played out. She had taken her parents to the hidden, magical community in Brisbane and had helped them pick out an owl to keep for themselves. They’d spent over a quarter of an hour just looking at all the different birds the store had to offer, but her father kept returning to one in particular. A gold and brown Rufous Owl, with large yellow eyes and an endearing habit of tilting his head to the side, as if trying to sort them out, had captured his attention and was chosen to be their very own courier. They stocked up on treats and Edward had sat very proudly on a bench outside the Herbology store with his new friend perched on his shoulder, chatting quietly with him about the goings on around them in the tiny village.

Meanwhile, Jeanette and Hermione had gone in the plant shop, where the curly-haired witch had helped her mother pick almost a dozen different species of magical plants that would grow and flourish nicely in the small, raised garden bed they planned to set up. They purchased fluxweed, dittany, aconite, and silverweed, all of which are used for healing minor cuts or burns, as well as several purely decorative blooms, like mallowsweet, which has tiny purple flowers that grow on delicate, leafy vines, and lady’s mantle, which consists of white, star-shaped blossoms. Hermione even made sure to include a small cutting of a flutterby bush, knowing her mother would enjoy the way the shrub rustled and wiggled of its own accord. She also purchased a small book about the uses for the plants that would now take root in her parents’ backyard, so they would know exactly how to care for them, and what purpose they served.

Knowing that her parents had their own means of communication with Orville (after the famous, flying Wright brothers), and the two-way journal gave Hermione no small degree of comfort, as well as the fact that they’d set a tentative date to come visit in just a few months. She’d not brought very much with her to Redland besides clothes and a couple of odds and ends, so packing didn’t take long at all. She sent Cyrene on her way several days before her own departure, with a note for Harry explaining her plans for the weekend. The only extra things she was bringing back with her were the list from her parents of items they wanted from their old house, her own two-way journal and the set she’d share with Draco, a large jar full of wonderfully patterned and uniquely shaped seashells, and a few souvenirs for her friends. All of which, of course, fit perfectly well in her beaded bag, which her mother had absolutely marveled at and wanted to know if the same spell could be put on her own luggage. Reluctantly, the talented witch had admitted that her trusty sack was not exactly Ministry approved, but she did offer to put a shrinking spell on her parent’s largest suitcase. As long as they left it open for the next three months or so, and didn’t close it until it was completely packed, once it was shut tight it would shrink to the size of a deck of playing cards, which her father could easily put in his pocket. She promised to work out a way for them to re-enlarge it on their return trip home once she was settled back at Grimmauld.

Their parting was only the tiniest bit tearful, with lots of hugs and promises to write very soon, and before she knew it, the old kitchen whisk Hermione was clutching turned blue and she was gone in the blink of an eye. One second she was standing in the middle of her parents’ living room in Australia, and four minutes later she was toppling over the coffee table in Number Twelve’s drawing room. Immediately a “pop” sounded behind her and the croaky voice of the resident house elf met her ears before she’d even righted herself from the awkward heap she’d landed in on the floor.

“Miss Hermione had returned,” Kreacher announced by way of greeting and bowed before her as she sat up and turned to face him.

“Hello, Kreacher,” she smiled warmly, “How have you been?”

“Very good, Miss, very good. Kreacher has been busy preparing your room, and has continued to take care of the puff-mouse Miss keeps there,” he boasted, standing a little straighter as he said this.

“Thank you so much,” she replied genuinely as she started digging around in her bag, her arm shoved in all the way up past her elbow as she searched for a specific item. “I have something for you,” she told the wizened elf who cocked his head with interest.

Hermione had noticed back at Christmastime that Kreacher apparently had a fondness for nuts. Growing up, her mum had always put a wooden bowl out in the living room filled with an assortment of whole nuts; walnuts, hazelnuts, and almonds; still in their shells. So, during the holidays with Harry, she’d set her own bowl out, complete with little metal nutcrackers, just like the ones her dad taught her to use all those years ago. Ron had been thoroughly entertained by the whole process of cracking them and getting them out of their shells, and had made a right mess more than once, but she’d also caught Kreacher eyeing the bowl when he thought no one was looking. She invited him to help himself, which had both surprised and pleased him immensely, and in the days that followed, she’d found him munching on a handful more than once. Much to her dentist-daughter dismay however, he liked them still in the shells, which caused her to cringe as he chomped and crunched his way through his new favorite snack, but she figured if it made him happy, she could ignore the sound and simply hope that he wouldn’t break all his teeth.

While in Redland, she’d gone to the local grocery multiple times and the variety of nuts they carried there was different from what was available at home. She’d picked out bags of chestnuts and macadamias, still in their shells of course, and brought them home for Kreacher. Finally locating them in the depths of her bag, she held them out to him and watched his eyes widen comically.

“They’re nuts,” she explained, “Like the ones we had a Christmas, but different kinds. They’re grown in Australia, where my parents live.”

Kreacher took the proffered gift and clutched it to his chest, bowing again and croaking, “Kreacher is very humbled, and very grateful to Miss Hermione.” He stood up and met her gaze straight-on, “Thank you very much, Miss. This is very kind of you.” He gave her an actual smile before heading towards the front hall.

“You’re welcome,” she called after him, but then realized he was speaking to someone and remembered the portrait of Sirius that now resided there. Hopping up, she followed in Kreacher’s wake and rounded the corner of the staircase only to come face-to-face with Harry’s godfather, who was grinning at her in such a familiar way it made her breath hitch and her eyes sting. While magical portraits were common to her after the years she’d spent in the Wizarding World, seeing someone that had passed on brought back in this way was still overwhelming, especially when she knew how much this particular portrait was worth to her best friend.

“Sirius,” she whispered.

“Hello, Hermione,” he drawled affectionately, “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” she replied, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, “I can’t believe it. They really got rid of Walburga?”

“Oh yes,” he nodded emphatically, “I’m only sorry I wasn’t around to see it myself. I was told she raised quite a fuss when she realized what was going on. Called my cousins all sorts of nasty names until the artist literally wiped that look off her face.” They both laughed at this, and Hermione couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I know it means a great deal to Harry to have you around, at least in some way, again.”

“I’m very happy to be here, too, my dear,” Sirius studied her for a moment, a knowing smirk gracing his aristocratic features, “What’s this I hear about you taking up with the Malfoy boy?” He arched a brow and she felt her cheeks redden under his scrutiny.

“Oh, well, we were both back at Hogwarts for our Eighth Year, and we became friends, and he’s not at all like he was before, and we just get on so well, and,” she knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop, “He’s really quite brilliant, you know, and even he and Harry have become friends, and it’s all just been…very…nice,” she finished lamely and wished the floor would swallow her up. The smug look on Sirius’ face made her feel like she was six years old and had gotten caught with too many pieces of candy, and her cheeks were now positively burning.

“Very nice, indeed,” he drawled, “I hear you’re heading to the Manor for the weekend, hmm?”

She was going to strangle Harry, “Oh, yes, Narcissa wanted to surprise Draco before he goes back to Hogwarts, so she invited me for dinner tonight and to stay a few days.”

“Narcissa, is it?” the teasing tone he used was exasperating and she knew he was just doing this to get a rise out of her, which he was succeeding in, as she huffed and put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes as he barked a laugh. “Hermione, you know I’m only giving you a hard time,” his low chuckle rumbled through the hall, “I’m happy for you, truly I am, and I find it completely wonderful, though not the least bit surprising, that you’ve already charmed one of the most uptight, traditionalist Purebloods into allowing you to call her by her first name. I don’t know if you realize how out of character that really is for my cousin.”

Hermione nodded, knowing it was no small thing, especially considering the history she had with that particular family, “I was shocked, myself, but she honestly seems like a completely different woman from the one I remember.”

“War will do that,” Sirius mused, “The loss of loved ones, the threat of dying, the dismantling of everything you’ve ever known, it takes a toll and forces people to take a long hard look at themselves.” He had a far-away look on his face as he continued, “For some, it’s a chance to do better, to change for good. For others, the grief cuts too deep and bitterness takes over.” She knew then, that he was talking about his own mother and how she dealt with Regulus’ death.

“That’s very true,” she murmured and the older wizard seemed to snap out of his morose train of thought, a bright smile spreading across his face once more.

“Well, I expect to hear all about your weekend away once you return, and you’ll have to tell me about your parents at some point, as well. My godson has, of course, told me about the whole plot to retrieve their memories, so I’m interested to hear about your time with them these past two months.”

“Absolutely,” Hermione beamed, “I’m sure we’ll have many conversations in the weeks to come, Sirius.”

“Now, get going. You’ve somewhere to be shortly, and I’ll not be blamed for holding you up!” he admonished with mock sternness.

She giggled and shook her head, waving at the portrait before hurrying upstairs to unpack and repack and get ready to head to the Manor where she’d see Draco in just a few hours’ time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! This was a little bit of a filler as we gear up for Hermione's time with Draco and the rest of his family. Much fluff is on the horizon :) Thank you, again, for reading and commenting - I truly appreciate all my readers!! Also, I just posted a new o/s entitled "Getting Here," and would love for you to check it out. (Dramione, of course!)


	6. Conspiracy At Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione arrives at Malfoy Manor for the second time in her life, and Draco is completely unsuspecting.

Draco was busy pouring over the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet_ while seated at his desk in the study, when a knock on the door, which was open, caused him to look up.

“Draco, dear, would you have time to come out to the garden with us?” Andromeda was standing in the doorway with Teddy on her hip, though he was valiantly trying to get down, “He keeps wanting to go outside and I just don’t have the energy to run after him anymore, and the elves are busy with dinner.”

“Of course,” he jumped up and immediately followed his aunt down the hall. He knew the more mobile Teddy had gotten, the more exhausting it was to keep up with him, especially since he hadn’t really reached the age where he was content to sit and play with one thing for very long. As they made their way towards the patio doors at the back of the house, he swung the rambunctious toddler up into his arms and pretended to “fly” him through the air. The small boy squealed with delight, immediately demanding it happen “gen!”

The warm August sun was still fairly high in the sky, as evening was only just starting to approach, and Draco spent the next hour chasing his little cousin through the pint-sized hedge maze he’d created for him, popping out from various hiding places, and spinning him in circles until both of them were dizzy and breathless. After the last bout of twirling, the grey-eyed wizard collapsed on the ground next to his aunt with a thud and a grunt.

“Merlin, I’m done for,” he chuckled and then let out a hard “oof” of air as Teddy flung himself across Draco’s stomach.

“Thank you, nephew,” Andromeda laughed lightly, “You’ve no idea how much I appreciate the time you spend with him. He’s so very fond of you; I know he’ll miss you terribly once you return to the castle.”

“I’ll miss him, too,” admitted, sitting up and capturing Teddy in his arms, “I’ll have to tell Potter to up his godfather game and spend more time with him when he comes over.”

“I won’t refuse the additional entertainment,” the dark-haired witch mused, “I’d forgotten how unstoppable they are at this age. The only time he’s still is when he’s sleeping, and even then, I’d bet my wand he’s dreaming about running and climbing.” They both chuckled as they watched the tiny child wriggle around in Draco’s lap, clearly trying to escape the cage of his arms.

“We should probably go get washed up for dinner. I know your mother was having some of your favorites prepared, so you might want to appear in something other than a grass-stained shirt,” Andromeda teased.

Draco glanced down at his wrinkled and messy attire and nodded in agreement. The two adults stood, each taking one, small and mildly sticky hand in their own, and began their trek back to the Manor, swinging the gleefully chortling toddler between them as they went.

ooOoo

Narcissa had successfully gotten Hermione through the floo and into the prepared guestroom while Draco was outside with Andromeda and Teddy. The sisters had concocted the plan over tea the day before, knowing that whenever the doting wizard was with his young cousin, his attention was fully fixed on him and he would be completely unaware of the goings on inside the house.

Hermione had been more than a little nervous about returning to the large and, in her memories, foreboding estate, but it was abundantly clear from the moment she stepped into the foyer that the place had been remarkably changed. The older witch had welcomed her with a warm smile and a friendly embrace, and Hermione had let her take her on a brief tour of the closest rooms and spaces before showing her to the opulent suite that was meant to be hers for the weekend.

“The drawing room,” Narcissa’s words had faltered as they walked down the long hallway, “The room you…that Bellatrix…”

“It’s okay,” Hermione whispered, “I understand.”

The elegant woman stopped and put a hand on the younger witch’s arm, “It’s gone, Hermione. The whole room is completely gone.”

“What? But how?” she replied, stunned and bewildered.

“As I redecorated over the course of the last year, I had the elves shift walls and doorways around, creating different spaces. I don’t expect you to recall the original layout of the house, but what’s left of that room is now just a small receiving area where Ministry officials meet with us whenever the need arises.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, both relieved and comforted by the thought that the room she still sometimes visited in her nightmares was no longer in existence. Perhaps knowing that would help it vanish from her subconscious as well.

They stopped in front of a beautifully ornate door, which Narcissa opened and swept through, immediately spinning to face her guest and wave her arm, gesturing her inside. Chocolate-brown eyes widened as they took in the sizable and beautifully appointed room. The furniture was all a deep, cherry wood, delicately carved and glossily-surfaced. The fabrics throughout the space were a combination of cream, rose, pale pink, and sage green, with floral patterns gracing the duvet and curtains, and rich upholstery covering the chairs in front of the fireplace and the mountain of pillows piled on the gigantic bed. Hermione couldn’t help the look of wonder that crossed her face as she took it all in; she felt like she had stepped into the chambers of a royal guest in a palace, which made her want to giggle with nervous excitement.

She turned to her host with a beaming smile on her face, “This is absolutely lovely, Narcissa. Thank you so much for having me.”

“You are most welcome, dear,” Narcissa responded with a smile of her own, genuinely pleased to see how happy the younger witch was, “I can’t wait for Draco to see you at dinner.” She glanced down at a delicate gold watch on her wrist, “You’ve got about an hour before we’ll eat, so please make yourself at home. I’ll send Merry to fetch you when its time, so you don’t have to search for the dining room yourself.”

Hermione allowed herself a small chuckle, knowing she’d easily get lost in the many halls of the mansion, and gratefully nodded her acceptance of the offered help. Once Narcissa left the room, she spent the next several minutes simply taking it all in. There was a small bookshelf on the far side of the fireplace and it was filled with a variety of literature; novels, texts, poetry, and even a few journals. She realized quickly that several of her favorite works were included, _Pride and Prejudice_ , _Romeo and Juliet_ , _The Hobbit,_ and even a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ graced the shelves. She was deeply touched by the efforts she knew Narcissa had made on her behalf, and indulged in a very deep breath, and a very long sigh, finally allowing herself to relax and settle in so she could fully enjoy her time with Draco’s family.

The bathroom was no less impressive than the bedroom, featuring a claw-footed tub big enough for three people, and a vanity complete with pink, tufted stool for her to sit on while doing her hair and makeup. She’d chosen a simple dress in a shade of pale, mint green that showed off her summer tan nicely. It was a light, flowy material with ruffles at the shoulders in place of short sleeves, and two layers of flouncy material made up the skirt. A delicate ribbon tied around her waist, and the hemline came an inch or two above her knees. It made her feel light and breezy, and pretty, if she was totally honest, and she hoped Draco thought so, too. Her curls were as tamed as they would ever be, and she’d twisted the sides back a little, while letting the rest flow down her back. Her hair was longer than she’d worn it in years, and the length helped weigh down some of the chaotic frizz she normally battled.

Once satisfied with her appearance, but still having a bit of time to herself, she plucked a book off the shelf and sat on the cushioned window-seat. Glancing out the tall pane of glass, she took in the rolling grounds of the Manor and could just make out what she assumed was Narcissa’s rose garden towards the far end of the house. She looked forward to seeing it in person, and hoped Draco would take her there at some point over the next few days. A short while later, Merry found the petite brunette completely engrossed in the copy of _Wuthering Heights_ she’d chosen to pass the time with, and gave a tiny clearing of her throat to alert the guest to her presence.

“Hello, Miss,” she squeaked, “I is Merry, and I is bringing you to the dining room now, if you please.”

Hermione was delighted to meet the cheery elf, who was dressed in what appeared to be a simple white shift, covered with a starched but frilly, dark grey apron, embroidered with a silver “M” on the pocket.

“Yes, of course,” she stood at once and laid the book on the bedside table before slipping into a pair of low, strappy sandals and making her way towards her guide. As they walked down the plush-carpeted halls, she asked Merry a little bit about the Manor.

“How many rooms are there here, Merry?”

“Well, Miss, there’s currently two dining rooms, three sitting rooms, the main library, the ballroom, and the solarium on the main floor. On the second floor, where you is staying, the Missus has a suite of three rooms, as do Master Draco and Miss Andromeda. There is one other guestroom on that floor, as well. Then, there is the third floor, where there is six more guest rooms, two parlors, and a guest study. The basement is where the kitchens, wine cellar, and…and…storage is located.”

Hermione did not miss the way the elf stumbled over the last part and assumed that the “storage” used to be the dungeon cells where Luna and Olivander had been kept prisoner until the day she, Harry, and Ron had appeared. Refusing to dwell on darker thoughts, she referred to the wording Merry had used at the start of her helpful description.

“What did you mean by “currently,” Merry? Are there sometimes more rooms, or fewer?”

“Yes, Miss,” the elf nodded emphatically, “Over the years, the Manor has been changed to accommodate the family residing within, and sometimes they is wanting more sitting rooms, or a bigger ballroom. So we elves, fix it as such.”

“That’s amazing,” Hermione replied, truly struck by the sheer volume of magic the elves must be able to perform in order to do something like that. Though she’d always known elf magic was different and more powerful than human magic, it still astounded her to hear such a thing.

“Here we are, Miss,” Merry happily chirped, gesturing for Hermione to proceed her through the tall double doors that led to the dining room. “This is the family dining room, and Missus says you are to sit here,” the tiny elf directed her to a chair at the end of the oval, mahogany table that had been set for five. She was sure Narcissa would sit at the head, while apparently she was meant to sit to her host’s right, and assumed the seat next to her would be occupied by her favorite wizard. Across the table was one regular place setting, and one smaller, accompanied by a wooden highchair she knew belonged to Teddy.

Thanking Merry for all her help, Hermione slid into her seat and simply gazed around the large and richly decorated room. The walls were a pale blue, with dark wood crown molding and furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows took up one entire wall and let an abundance of natural light in as the cream and cobalt brocade curtains were pulled back. A lovely sideboard was centered on the wall behind Narcissa’s chair and held a gorgeous floral arrangement that Hermione doubted she could lift with both hands. Tall silver candelabras stood at each end, and a painting of a springtime landscape hung above it. She could just make out tiny horses in the distance, grazing on the bright green grass, their tails swishing back and forth.

The sound of someone approaching drew her attention towards the doorway, and she smiled as Narcissa, Adromeda, and Teddy entered the room. She stood and greeted Tonk’s mother and son with a warm hug, only to have the energetic toddler grab a handful of her curls and tug at them while grinning and giggling. The three witches all laughed at his antics and Andromeda gently untangled his fingers from Hermione’s hair before placing him in his chair and immediately placating him with a dinner roll.

As they took their seats, Narcissa was just asking her guest if she’d found her rooms to her liking, or if she needed anything, when the last member of their party came striding through the door. Draco’s hair was still wet from the shower he’d obviously just taken, and he was buttoning the cuffs of his oxford as he spoke.

“Sorry, wasn’t keeping track of the time and I,” but his words disappeared as he finally looked up and noticed the extra person seated at the table. He froze, still several paces away, and simply took in the sight of his favorite witch, sitting beside his mother, the most beautiful smile spreading across her face.

“Hermione?” he finally managed as his gaze flickered between his girlfriend and his mother, both of whom nodded in confirmation as the former stood up and took a step in his direction. He covered the remaining distance in three hurried strides and gathered her up in his arms, completely stunned by her presence yet overwhelmingly happy to see her. She returned his embrace wholeheartedly and he kept her there as he directed his next question to Narcissa.

“Did you plan this?”

“Of course, dear,” she smiled serenely, “We couldn’t let you head off to your new job without a little celebration, which wouldn’t have been complete without Hermione.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, hoping his mother could read just how very much this meant to him in his expression. He then turned his attention back to his girlfriend, who had contentedly remained in his arms since he’d pulled her there. He loosened his grasp around her and moved his hands so they held her face, peering into the amber eyes he’d missed so much over the last eight weeks.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said softly and leaned in to press a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips. They had an audience, after all. The way her eyes fluttered and her cheeks blushed told him she was equally pleased to be there as she stepped back and took his hand, leading him to the pair of seats they were meant to occupy.

“When did you get here?” Draco asked as they settled in.

“A little over an hour ago.”

“Really?” his gaze shot across the table to his aunt, who was busying herself with cutting up tiny pieces of chicken for Teddy, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitching. “Did you ask me to go outside to keep me from finding Hermione?”

“Maybe,” Andromeda glanced at him from the corner of her eye while both Narcissa and Hermione laughed lightly.

“You’re all plotting together, aren’t you?” he teased, “Is there anything else I need to be aware of?”

“Well, I’m here till Sunday evening, if that’s the kind of news you’re looking for,” Hermione offered.

“Truly?” he goggled at her, elated by this turn of events and thrilled as she nodded in affirmation. “That’s wonderful,” he grinned.

Just then, Merry appeared and asked if they wanted their first course brought out, which Narcissa agreed to, and dinner was officially underway. Through soup, salad, and a main entrée of roasted lamb, red potatoes, and asparagus, conversation flowed and Teddy entertained them with his attempts at using a fork and saying new words. As their plates were cleared away, the Lady of the Manor addressed the young couple.

“I thought perhaps you’d enjoy having dessert out on the patio, instead of in here,” she smiled at her son and his lovely companion, “The garden is lovely in the evening.”

Draco returned her smile and nodded as he stood and helped pull Hermione’s chair out as she rose, “We’d like that very much.”

Hermione beamed as well, first at him, then at Narcissa and Andromeda as she expressed her appreciation for the dinner they’d enjoyed. The young witch and wizard walked towards the doors, their hands automatically reaching for one another as they went, eyes fully trained on each other and completely unaware of the audience behind them.

“Well,” Narcissa remarked quietly with a pleased sigh, “I think our first dinner together went brilliantly, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” her sister agreed, “They seem very happy together, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I do. I’ll be much mistaken if I don’t wind up with the Brightest Witch of the Age as my daughter-in-law in the years to come.”

“And you would be alright with that?” Andromeda asked cautiously. She knew her sister had undergone a massive change of heart, as well as of beliefs and opinions over the last year or so, but she’d wondered if there was a limit to this new acceptance.

Narcissa’s expression hardened as she looked down at the table in front of her, her brow furrowed and her jaw set. Several seconds went by before she spoke, and it was clear she’d chosen her words very carefully, “If Hermione Granger makes my son as happy as she appears to, I will never do or say anything to come between the two of them. Draco has endured far too much, lost far too much, in his young life and I refuse to take an ounce of his future joy away from him.” The fire in her eyes as she met her sister’s gaze spoke volumes to the love she had for her son, but her fierce countenance softened as she continued, “And if that amazing, brilliant, and courageous young woman can forgive me and actually accept me in any capacity in her life, much less as a part of her family, it will always be more than I deserve.” Her voice wavered at the end and tears shone in her bright blue eyes.

Andromeda was more than a little surprised by the blatant honesty shown by her normally-reserved sister, but was happy to hear it nonetheless. She knew first-hand what it felt like to have one's family turn against them for who they fell in love with, and couldn’t bear the thought of Draco facing that. She clasped Narcissa’s hand in her own and spoke firmly, “You are an amazing mother, a powerful witch, and a wonderful woman, Cissa. Hermione will be lucky to have you; you will be lucky to have each other, I dare say. I’m very, very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

Narcissa nodded and took a deep breath, offering her sister a trembling smile of gratitude, “I do not think I could have managed these last eight months without you here. I’m only sorry it took so many years and such awful circumstances to bring us back together.”

“Me too, dear sister,” Andromeda returned the smile as she squeezed Narcissa’s hand, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited at last :) There will be much fluffiness (and snogging) in the next couple of chapters as our favorite pair reconnect after two months apart. As I've mentioned before, Narcissa's redemption is equally important to me, so this was a glimpse into how far she's come. I truly hope this week finds each of you well and weathering these crazy times alright. Thank you so much for reading! If you've got spare time, and haven't already done so, I'd love for you to check out my other works, too! <3


	7. Getting Reacquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione enjoy their time together, and Hermione learns a little about family history.

Draco and Hermione had made their way out to the patio where dessert was set up on the small bistro table, complete with linen table cloth, delicate china plates, candles, and glasses of champagne. The young couple chuckled as they took in the lovely, yet rather formal, romantic display.

“Would you like to sit, or take a walk first?” Draco asked.

“Oh, a walk would be perfect,” Hermione admitted, “I’m entirely stuffed from dinner!”

He laughed as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she looped hers around his waist as they began to follow the path that wound through the perpetually-blooming rose garden. The moon was high, and enough light from inside the Manor filtered out to the grounds to allow a clear view of the vast array of colorful and fragrant flowers. They strolled at a leisurely pace, with Draco pointing out certain things like a rare species, or an unusual hue. Hermione appreciated all of it, but was mostly just happy to be there with him. She knew she’d missed him, but having him close again showed her just how much, and she basked in his nearness as they walked and talked and enjoyed each other’s company.

She stopped to admire a particularly lovely rose; a large bloom of pale pink with a darker shade around the edges of each petal. It was almost the size of her fist and looked too perfect to be real. She gently traced the silken surface with one finger, completely caught up in the moment, while Draco stood nearby, his eyes entirely focused on her.

“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly.

A shy smile tugged at her lips as her cheeks flushed and she lowered her gaze to the ground, still not used to such compliments, but pleased with his words and the swirl of internal warmth they caused. He reached out a finger to twirl one of her curls around it, and she looked up to find him studying her with an intensity that stopped her heart. A combination of longing and adoration and sheer happiness played across his features and Hermione felt certain the same was mirrored on her own face.

He leaned down and kissed her sweetly, savoring the feel of her lips against his for a brief moment before he stepped back and intertwined his fingers with her. He tilted his head towards the right, indicating that they should keep walking, a lopsided grin telling her there was a purpose to their continued journey. Shortly, they turned a corner and came upon a small fountain with stone benches around it. It was shaded from the manor by tall bushes and large trees, but the fairy lights twinkling among the branches gave enough illumination to see by. Draco led her to one of the benches and they sat together in peaceful silence, listening to the water splash gently, and the breeze rustle the leaves all around them. It was a warm, clear night and both of them couldn’t have been more content in that moment.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her closer to his side. Hermione hummed in agreement as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“I want to hear all about your last few days in Redland, and the details of your trip to Grimmauld and here, but would it be terribly rude of me to request that we wait until later for that?” He shifted so he could peer into her warm brown eyes as he spoke and couldn’t help but smirk at the look of confusion that crossed her face.

“Of course not,” she began, “Is there something else,” but he swallowed the rest of her query as he captured her lips with his own, finally getting to kiss her the way he’d wanted to all through dinner. Apparently she caught on to the “something else” that he’d prefer to focus on at the moment, and angled into him more fully, running her hands up his arms, across his shoulders, and carding her fingers through his platinum locks. One of his arms was wrapped tightly around her waist as his other hand traveled up her spine until his hand cradled the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her soft curls.

They kissed until they were breathless, their hearts pounding and their skin tingling from reacquaintance after two months apart, and both were reluctant to stop. When they pulled apart, he held her face between his hands as he had earlier and stared into her eyes, mesmerized by the flecks of gold that swam in their chocolate depths.

“Merlin, I love you, Hermione,” he whispered.

Her breath hitched and her eyes prickled as she gazed into the slate-grey pools she’d dreamt about almost every night, “I love you, too, Draco,” she breathed.

He kissed her again, just a quick one, and when he pulled back a wide grin had spread across his handsome features, “I can’t believe you’re here for two more days.”

She smiled dreamily and leaned her face into his touch, “Yup, I’m all yours till Sunday night.”

“That’s good,” his smirk turned mischievous as he leaned in once more, trailing kisses up her jaw before whispering in her ear, “since we’ve got lots to catch up on.”

She shivered slightly and let out a tiny sigh as she melted even further into him, his lips meeting hers once more.

ooOoo

The happy pair spent every moment of her weekend at the Manor together, except for the few hours they reluctantly parted to sleep, and the times they spent around the dining table with Narcissa, Andromeda, and Teddy. The curly-haired witch was surprised at how comfortable she found herself to be in the place that once held such horrible memories for her. As Narcissa had assumed, Hermione did not remember much about the estate from her previous experience, but what she did recall was dark, cold, and terrifying. The home she found herself in now was filled with light and laughter, each room still exquisitely decorated, but warm and welcoming, and by lunchtime on Saturday, she no longer felt like a stranger or even a formal guest, but more like a member of their family.

After lunch that day, she badgered Draco into showing her the library, which he agreed to, solely under the condition that they spend no more than two hours in there. At the look of consternation on his girlfriend’s face, he teasingly reminded her that there would many opportunities in the future for her to return to the impressively-stocked shelves, and even offered for her to bring as many books home as she liked. Thus mollified by the gesture, she set about choosing an armload of tomes to hold on to, while simultaneously marveling at the ancient collection of rare and, in some cases, original copies that graced the shelves.

The rest of Saturday was spent exploring other parts of the Manor’s expansive grounds, including a walk around the sizeable pond where a family of swans glided across the surface, a trek to the edge of the cleared property, where the perfectly manicured lawn ended and the wall of trees signaling the private forest began. Though there was a visible path into the woods, Draco suggested they save that adventure for the next day when the sun was shining brightest and they had much more time to devote to exploration. Circling back around towards the house, he took her through the hedge maze (the real one, not the child-sized one he’d made for Teddy), and the two spent an hour chasing each other through the twisting, turning labyrinth of greenery.

In the end, he’d snuck up behind his favorite witch and captured her unawares, earning himself a shriek of surprise and a fit of giggles as he kissed his way up one side of her face and down the other before pressing a final one to her lips and saying they really did need to head back inside for dinner. Their fourth meal together with everyone was another enjoyable affair, and Hermione was reluctant to admit she felt very spoiled by the gourmet dishes and culinary delights consistently presented to her.

“I cooked a lot for my parents while I was with them, but nothing like this,” she told her hosts, “The most adventurous I got was the osso buco I made for the little dinner party I put together the last Friday I was there.”

“I haven’t had that in ages,” remarked Narcissa, looking thoughtful, “In fact, I’m quite sure the last time was in Italy when we attended Irina’s wedding over a decade ago.”

“Was that her fifth? Or sixth?” Draco asked and, seeing the look of confusion on Hermione’s face added, “Blaise’s mother.”

Understanding blossomed and her eyes widened as she recalled the rumors she’d heard over the years about Blaise’s very beautiful and very rich mother, who’d had seven husbands to date. Turning her attention back to the previous conversation topic, she directed her words towards the elegant witch.

“Perhaps we could cook something together sometime,” she offered hopefully and was pleased to see the look of surprise that originally came over Narcissa’s face turn into a beaming smile.

“I would like nothing more, my dear,” the older woman replied genuinely.

“That’s it then,” said Andromeda, “Maybe once Hermione gets settled in her glamorous new career, she can plan to come back for another weekend and you two can cook up a storm.” She winked at the petite brunette as she grabbed a custard-filled spoon out of Teddy’s hand before he started waving it around again. She’d already vanished a blob of creamed peas off the sideboard, and during breakfast had siphoned strawberry preserves off several fabric surfaces.

Narcissa glanced at her guest, and Hermione saw a flash of apprehension flit across the aristocratic face and realized Draco’s mother still wasn’t sure how to proceed in their new acquaintanceship. Wanted to set her fears to rest, she smiled and met the pair of sparkling blue eyes firmly.

“That would be wonderful.”

The miniscule trembling of her chin was the only indication that Narcissa was anything other than perfectly pleased with Hermione’s answer, but Draco saw it and knew that once again, his favorite witch had won his mother’s heart with the size of her own. He watched Narcissa’s shoulders relax an infinitesimal amount as their meal continued and felt his own heart swell with love for the young woman beside him. Hermione’s open acceptance of his family meant more to him than he could ever convey, and he was continuously impressed with her innate ability to know exactly what someone needed to hear, and act upon it solely for the purpose of putting them at ease. She truly was a remarkable person.

After dinner, they spent some time in Draco’s study, figuring out what he should bring with him to Hogwarts. While he would be assisting in Bill’s classroom, he would still have chambers of his own, and wanted to fill it with things that would both be useful in his new position, as well as items that would make the space feel like home. Hermione helped him pick out a trunkful of books, two framed pieces to hang on the wall – one an ancient map of the world he confided he used to pretend belonged to a pirate when he was younger, and another that was a painting of a rustic village in France near his family’s summer estate. While the property no longer belonged to the Malfoys, having been seized as part of reparations from the war, he had many fond memories of holidays and summers spent there, and hoped to one day return to visit the quaint hamlet.

Hermione wandered through the inner doorway in the study, and found herself in a small sitting room. A loveseat and two chairs were grouped around a coffee table, floor-to-ceiling windows, similar to those in the attached study, were framed by light blue curtains, and one whole wall was lined with glass-front cabinets that contained a vast assortment of what looked like magical trinkets, family heirlooms, and priceless artifacts. She was perusing the objects when Draco found her.

“Ah, I see you’ve discovered my collection,” he observed with a grin.

“I suppose, but I’m not exactly sure how these all tie together to be a collection,” she admitted, “What does a portrait of Henry VIII have to do with an ornate Easter egg?”

“That’s a Faberge Egg,” he explained, nodding to the colbalt-blue egg, perched on a crystal base, “It’s called the Constellation Egg, and it’s made of glass with the Leo constellation engraved into it, the stars marked by real diamonds.” He couldn’t stop the smug grin that spread across his face as she registered his words. Her eyes were as round as saucers and her kissable mouth had dropped open in utter astonishment.

“You….you have a real, honest-to-Godric, Faberge Egg in your _house_?”

“Yes, well, supposedly the real one is either owned by a Russian millionaire, or is in the Fersman Museum, but both of those are fake,” he shrugged as if this was of no consequence.

“But,” she spluttered, “But _how_ do you have this? _Why_ do you have it?”

“It’s been passed down for generations, quite honestly. All of this has been,” he waved his hand at what she was now suspecting to be a priceless display of random things. “Our family, both the Blacks and the Malfoys, have been around for ages and have been, shall we say, very well-connected over the years. You know how much I enjoy history, and this is a representation of my scandalous and sordid ancestry.” He winked and flashed his signature smirk at her, causing her brain to battle between a massive desire to snog him senseless, and an obsessive need to learn more about the antiques in front of her. He watched with great amusement as various expressions flitted across her delicate features and eventually solved her inner conflict for her.

He leaned in and kissed her softly, and then took her hand and pulled her towards one end of the cabinets, pointing to what looked like a small treasure chest on short, little legs. The top was rounded, and the entire surface was painted and inlaid with tiny images, characters, symbols, and she squinted to look more closely.

“Are those hieroglyphs?”

Draco chuckled, “Yes, they are.”

Hermione goggled at him and waved her hand impatiently for him to explain further.

“Well, the story that goes with that jewelry box is that a very distant relative on the Malfoy side was close friends with Cleopatra, and she gave it to her as a birthday present.”

“Shut it,” Hermione snarked, “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” he continued gleefully, rarely having an opportunity to share these odds and ends with someone who’d appreciate the history of them as much as he did, “The dagger on the top shelf? That was supposedly one of the weapons used in the stabbing of Julius Caesar. It was given to a long-dead ancestor on my mother’s side as payment for his silence regarding the plot to kill the Emperor.”

“I can’t…I don’t even know what to say,” she breathed, clearly awestruck.

“So, back to the egg,” he moved them down a few paces so they were back where they’d started, “The story was that it was commissioned for Tsar Nicholas’ wife, but never finished or presented to her, which is not entirely true. The egg was originally commissioned for my great-great-great-aunt, who was the Tsar’s mistress. The artist had brought the partially-completed egg to the palace for approval, and the Tsaritsa saw it. To cover up the real recipient, the Tsar said it was meant to be a surprise for her, and later asked the artist to make a second one. _That_ one was never completed. It was also never found. This one was.”

Hermione was rendered speechless for several long seconds, a feat Draco took great pride in accomplishing.

“I’m almost afraid to ask about the portrait of Henry VIII,” she murmured in a strained voice.

“Oh, that’s not nearly as unseemly. He was just a very good friend of an ancestor of mine, Charles Brandon.”

Hermione felt lightheaded, “You’re related to the Duke of Suffolk?”

“Yes, I believe he was a distant cousin, a fourth or fifth, and at least twice removed.”

“But, but all these famous historical people,” she stuttered, “They were Muggles. They didn’t know about magic!”

“Are you sure about that?” he cocked a pale brow as a teasing smirk slid across his face. “I dare say a lot of well-known figures throughout history have had more contact with the Wizarding World than people would ever think.”

“I need to sit down,” she announced weakly and he chuckled as he wrapped an arm around her and steered her through another door, which led to his bedroom. Like the guest suite she occupied, Draco’s room was large and airy, with ornate mahogany furniture, and lush textiles. The color palette was a little heavier, with shades of forest green, navy blue, and pewter grey spread throughout, but enough cream and pale blue intermingled so as to keep it from seeming too dark. He led her to an overstuffed chair in the corner, where she sank down and stared, unseeingly at the thick carpet beneath her feet.

“I had no idea there would be such connections throughout history,” she admitted thoughtfully, “I’ve always viewed the Muggle and magical worlds to be completely separate. Except for the witch burnings in the Middle Ages and things like that, I suppose.”

“Hmm, yes, I can see what you mean. We do a smashing good job of staying hidden these days, but it wasn’t always the case. Centuries ago, and especially in ancient times, magic was more widely acknowledged and accepted. The need for such secrecy only arose as tolerance waned and fear grew instead.”

Hermione nodded in understanding and looked up to meet the twinkling gaze of her favorite wizard. She smiled sheepishly at how ridiculous it must seem for her to be so overwhelmed by this information and gave a small huff of exasperation with herself.

“Well, now I know what sort of books I’ll be looking for next time I visit your incredible library,” she said lightly as she glanced around the room, “We should keep packing so we don’t have to spend time on that tomorrow.”

“I think we’re almost done,” Draco let his eyes roam around his room, knowing he wouldn’t need any of the furniture or bedding, and having already packed most of the small personal items he wanted to bring, including two framed photographs of him and Hermione, one of him with his mother, one of Andromeda and Teddy, and the two Hermione had given him for Valentine’s Day. He also decided to bring the photo album from Hannah, his personal Quidditch gear, his team of action figures which he used to great success when showing his young flyers what different formations were supposed to look like, his chess set, and the cauldron Hermione had given him for Christmas as his Secret Santa.

The curly-haired witch had wandered over to the tall dresser where a carriage clock sat flanked by silver-framed portraits of the former-Slytherin with his parents. One looked to have been taken when Draco was no more than two or three years old, and the other was probably about ten years later, after he’d been in school for a few years, but before he’d stopped slicking his hair back.

“Do you want to bring either of these?” she asked.

“No,” came the curt reply and she turned to look at him, surprised by the iciness of his tone. His brow was furrowed and his jaw tight as he looked past her to the images on the dresser. He shook his head abruptly and turned away, moving towards his bedside table and fiddling with the quill and inkpot sitting there. She approached him cautiously and laid a hand on his arm.

“Draco?”

He froze, but refused to look at her, instead simply shaking his head again as he glared at the nightstand in front of him.

“Hey,” she wound her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest where she could feel his heart racing. His arms immediately circled her, and she could tell he was trying to control his breathing, which was ragged and heavy. She didn’t say anything else, just stayed there offering wordless support for whatever was going through his head. She knew he blamed his father for most of what had happened to him, but he rarely spoke about any of it. Clearly there were unresolved issues there, if this reaction was any indication. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her curls and squeezed him a little tighter, and he returned the gesture.

“I have something for you,” she mumbled into his shirt after a few more seconds passed in silence.

“You do?” he asked, and she was pleased to hear the teasing lilt was back to his voice. She shifted and looked up at him with a smile and nodded.

“It’s in my room.”

“Well, lead the way,” he entwined his fingers with hers and let her lead him out the door, not giving the portraits on the dresser a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love them together so much, it's completely sappy and ridiculous :) As you can assume, there are some deeply buried issues regarding Lucius, which will come into play later on in this story. I didn't focus on it in "A Thousand Words," since that was mostly about Draco finding his footing after the war and establishing new, positive relationships. But Lucius' hold over his son isn't quite gone yet. The next chapter, however, is still a bunch more fluff :)  
> Thank you for reading and for sharing your thoughts. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy, and that your week is off to a good start! <3


	8. Another Parting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione spend the day together before returning to reality.

Sunday at the Manor dawned bright and sunny, and the young couple within had a full day planned for themselves before they needed to say goodbye. The night before, Hermione had given Draco his two-way journal, which had thrilled him to no end. He’d been thoroughly impressed with the intricate magic that went into creating such a thing, and had kissed her breathless in thanks.

“I know we could just use a single parchment, and let the words fade, but I want to keep them,” she admitted quietly as they’d sat together on the window seat in her room. “I want to be able to go back and read our conversations, even if they’re not anything deep or important,” she shrugged, “They’re still us, and I want to keep them, if that makes any sense.” She’d gotten a little teary-eyed at the thought of leaving in less than twenty-four hours, but he’d refused to let her be sad when they still had the whole next day together.

Instead, he dragged her down to the kitchens just slightly before midnight, long after everyone else had gone to bed, including the house elves, and suggested they make something to surprise Narcissa, Andromeda, and Teddy in the morning. She accused him of going spare, but happily obliged and said she knew her mum’s cinnamon bread recipe by heart, which earned her an ear-splitting grin from the pale blonde, who happened to be extremely fond of the Muggle confection.

They set about their task, using magic to gather supplies and ingredients, but Hermione insisted they do the actual preparation the “real” way. Watching Draco crack eggs (and then fish the broken shell out of the batter) was a memory she would cherish forever. By the time it was all said and done, they had three loaves of warm, sugary goodness to share with everyone, and only about four hours to catch some shut-eye before breakfast would be upon them. After making sure the kitchen was spotless once more, they tiptoed back through the silent halls, where Draco kissed her goodnight outside her door and she fell into bed with a smile on her face.

The cinnamon bread was a tremendous success, with both Narcissa and Andromeda inhaling several slices and exclaiming over how delicious it was. Even Teddy couldn’t pop the tiny squares his grandmother was leaving on his tray into his mouth fast enough.

“Draco, dear, if this was what she gave you the first time you sat down to talk, it’s no wonder you fell in love with her,” Narcissa teased, and her son’s cheeks turned bright pink in response. Hermione’s eyes had flown wide at the comment and her gaze flitted between mother and son, unsure if there was something she was missing.

“Yes, thank you, Mother,” Draco responded dryly before turning to his mildly bemused girlfriend, “While I absolutely enjoyed the cinnamon bread that day at your house, the most important part of that encounter was the conversation we had and the forgiveness you extended.” He shook his head, remembering that moment and still feeling humbled by her gracious acceptance of his apology, and her unconditional offer of friendship and a clean slate. “Some people,” he shot a sideways glance at his mother who was refusing to meet his eye, “believe I came away from that interaction with more romantic feelings.”

Narcissa sipped daintily from her teacup and fixed Hermione with her sparkling gaze, “He might never admit it, my dear, but a mother can tell when her son is smitten.”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to blush, but she didn’t mind. Truth be told, the Draco Malfoy who’d sat across her kitchen table that day had intrigued her, had deeply touched her heart with his sincere words, and had walked out the door with a piece of her she didn’t think she’d ever get back. She recognized that now, and knew she’d lost more pieces over the last year, but had gained so much in return. She smiled at Narcissa and replied, “He wasn’t the only one.”

The elegant witch beamed with satisfaction, and beside her, Draco choked on his coffee as his cheeks flamed even brighter.

ooOoo

Immediately after breakfast, the young couple requested a hamper of snacks from the kitchen elves, and set out for a day of exploring the Manor grounds, and more specifically, the forest at the edge of the property. As they walked across the rolling lawn towards the ancient tree line, Draco told her all about his escapades in the woods as a child.

“I used to pretend I was a dragon hunter, or a centaur, or a pirate who had to hide his stolen treasure,” he shared as they strolled hand-in-hand, and Hermione giggled at the mental image of a small blonde boy racing through the trees, hiding in shadows, and imagining all sorts of scenarios as he battled monsters and saved the day.

“Did you mostly play alone? Or did you have company?” she asked.

“Both. Obviously, I was on my own a lot as an only child, but sometimes the house elves would play, and at least once a week Mother would invite her friends for tea, which meant their sons and daughters would tag along and I’d have a playmates for the afternoon. Pansy was probably the most regular one, though all the Sacred Twenty-Eight intermingled, so Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and even Millicent were around pretty often. Crabbe and Goyle started showing up a few years before we started school.”

Hermione tried to imagine tiny versions of the former Slytherins playing together, and while she had no trouble picturing Theo or Daphne, or even Pansy and Blaise, she had a hard time envisioning Draco’s pseudo-bodyguards as cute, little kids. She let out a quiet snort before she could stop herself, but didn’t have to cover it up as he gave a low chuckle himself.

“I know, it’s hard to think we were all young and innocent at one point,” he sighed wistfully and swung their clasped hands between them, “What about you? What did you do for fun?”

“Well, I’m sure it will come as no surprise that I read a lot,” she answered dryly, “And I can honestly say that one of my favorite people growing up was the librarian at the public branch two blocks from my house.” At this, her blonde companion gave a hearty guffaw before smothering it with a cough as she glared at him, but it was all in jest as she grinned before continuing, “The day I was old enough to walk there by myself was the most exciting day of my seven-year-old life. Of course, mum still stood on the sidewalk outside our house and watched me the whole way, and I’m quite certain Miss Penvenen called her when I left so she’d know to look for me coming back, but still, it was a big deal.”

“I’m sure,” Draco agreed genially, “Anyone else you spent time with?”

“Our neighbors had a boy my age, Larry O’Connor, and he was my best friend for five years. They moved in when I was about four, and stayed until the summer before I turned ten. He had a wonderful imagination, and he never made fun of me for being studious, since he was the same. We used to make our own books; I would write and he would illustrate. He went to a private primary school, so once we started classes, I didn’t see him quite as much, but summers and weekends were still spent making up stories.” She smiled as she remembered her childhood friend, one of the few peers she had fond memories of until she attended Hogwarts and met Harry and Ron.

“Do you still have any of those books?” Draco pulled her from her recollections with a question.

“Hmm, possibly,” she mused, “I’ll have to check. I need to go back to the house soon to get the things my mum wants before we let it out.”

“Well, if you come across one, I’d love to see what the younger, but I’m sure still-brilliant you came up with,” he pulled her to his side and swooped in to leave a kiss on her cheek, earning himself a giggle.

“Here we are,” he announced unnecessarily as they approached the wall of trees that marked the forest boundary. In what was probably the exact middle of the wooded expanse, a small path, just wide enough for two people, wound its way into the depths of the shadowed but inviting space.

“Lead the way, my fearless protector,” she teased, popping up on her tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek. He grinned with such open joy it made her heart skip and she squeezed his hand a little tighter as they entered the forest together.

They followed the path for a while, long enough to lose their point of entrance from view, winding in between clusters of bushes and ancient oaks. Every so often, Draco would point out a spot he’d used to frequent; a small cave that had been his hideout, a fallen tree that marked buried treasure, a circle of stones he’d used as a trap against his imagined enemies. Finally, they stepped through the dense army of trees into a little, sunlit clearing. It was almost a perfect circle, and the bright green grass was dotted with tiny white flowers. It looked like something out of a storybook, and Hermione couldn’t help the gasp of delight that escaped as she entered it.

“This was always one of my favorite spots,” Draco told her as he pulled her to the middle of the ring of light, where he conjured a blanket for them to sit on and gestured for her to get comfortable while he continued his tale, “For some reason, this was always my destination, my goal. All my journeys led here, and it was where I considered myself to be ‘safe’ from whatever harm might befall me.” He chuckled wryly, “If only it was that simple once I was older.”

She knew exactly what he meant and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and wishing they’d all had a ‘home base’ like this in previous years. Somewhere that they could have found absolute peace and protection if they’d simply stepped within its boundaries. The world didn’t work that way, she knew, magical or otherwise, but she was reminded for the hundredth time how very lucky they were to be here now. Tilting her face up, she looked at the handsome blonde and smiled.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said softly and he met her gaze with a sheepish grin.

“If I was still a knight on a quest, would you be the princess I sought?” his eyes twinkled with mirth and her cheeks blushed.

“Not rescued?” she asked, “Don’t most princesses need to be saved?”

“Only the regular, ordinary, incapable ones,” he wrapped an arm around her and used his other hand to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear, “You are most definitely not ordinary, and you don’t need anyone to rescue you, Hermione. I rather think I’d have been looking for you so _you_ could save _me_.” He kissed her then and her heart felt like it would burst. Tears burned behind her closed eyelids as she tried to stop her mind from spiraling through images of him in Sixth Year when he was faced with horrors she couldn’t even fathom, and she knew.

“I would have,” she breathed against his lips as she shifted herself so she was in his lap, gliding her fingers through his soft platinum locks and wanting nothing more than to be as close to him as possible. To show him that he was safe and out of harm’s way, and that she was never going to let anything happen to him ever again. She knew, in that moment, that if it ever came down to it, she’d step in front of an Unforgivable if it meant he’d be okay. The way he was kissing her back, his hands gripping her tightly, his breathing uneven and labored, she knew he felt the same, and it was all she needed.

They spent hours in their private haven, sprawled on the blanket, watching the clouds go by, sharing childhood stories in between passionate kisses and whispered confessions. They talked about the weeks ahead and what their new ‘normal’ would probably look like, and took comfort in the fact that they would mostly likely see each other in less than four weeks. Hermione promised to owl McGonagall as soon as she returned to Grimmauld to set the date for their very first Game Night of the new school year.

As the sun made its way across the sky, they knew it was time to head back to the Manor so they could get cleaned up and join Narcissa, Andromeda, and Teddy for one more dinner before Hermione would floo home. The meal was wonderful, as always, and conversation flowed comfortably in between Teddy’s demands for more food and exuberant attempts to climb out of his chair. After a delicious fruit and custard tart was served for dessert, Draco accompanied Hermione up to her suite where she gathered up her bag and made sure she’d packed up all her belongings.

“My mother intends for this to be your room every time you come visit, which she hopes will be often,” he told her with a warm smile as he took her hand, “So if you ever want to leave anything here, you’re welcome to. No one else will bother it.”

“Thank you, I might do that next time,” she said thoughtfully as they walked down the hall, making their way to the floo in the foyer. As they approached, the other three members of the family appeared to say goodbye. Teddy launched himself into Hermione’s arms and squeezed her neck as he babbled at top speed. Andromeda laughed and apologized as she tried to gently disentangle his fingers from the younger witch’s soft curls and gave her a one-armed squeeze while balancing the active toddler on her hip.

“I’m so glad you came, Hermione,” Narcissa said quietly as she stepped closer to the petite brunette, “I hope you’ll come visit again soon.” The hopeful look on her elegant face brought a smile to Hermione’s as she responded with complete sincerity.

“I would love to. Thank you so much for having me, Narcissa,” and she embraced the older woman with a gentle but genuine hug.

Draco’s mother and aunt took their leave, allowing the young couple some privacy, and he stepped forward, leaving mere inches between himself and his witch. He cupped her jaw with his hands and stared into her warm brown eyes for several seconds before speaking, his voice low and intense.

“You have no idea how much it meant to me, to have you hear these last few days. I feel like I’m going to wake up tomorrow to find it will just have been a dream,” he gave a small, lopsided smile, “But I will take a dream with you over a day without you anytime.”

Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she wound her arms up around his neck and drew his face closer to hers, “I love you,” she whispered before she kissed him. He dropped his hand from her face and circled her waist as he angled his head and deepened the kiss. When they stopped to breathe, he hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her curls.

“I love you, too,” he replied.

One more kiss and they broke apart, knowing they’d stay there forever if they were allowed to, but both were smiling as she stepped into the floo and called out Number Twelve, disappearing in a whoosh of green flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Thursday, another chapter :) I hope this finds each of you, my wonderful readers, safe and healthy and not climbing the walls during this time of isolation. My favorite couple is about to embark on their own individual journeys, and while I love writing scenes with the two of them together, I'm very excited about their upcoming experiences! Thank you so much for following along :)  
> *Side note - If you have not yet had the chance to listen to Daniel Radcliffe reading the first chapter of "Sorcerer's Stone," I would highly recommend it. He is adorable and I just cannot handle Harry Potter reading Harry Potter! Ahhhhh! Love. It. <3


	9. Familiar and Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco returns to Hogwarts in his new, official role and begins to settle in.

Draco arrived at Hogwarts shortly before noon the Monday before school was set to begin, as per the Headmistress’ request. He stepped out of the fireplace in her office to find her seated behind the large, ornate desk, busily writing on a fairly long piece of parchment. She glanced up at the sound of the floo and gave him a small smile while holding up one finger, asking for a moment to complete the task before her. He quietly made his way across the room and seated himself in one of the chairs across from her, letting his gaze roam about the opulent space as he waited. He had to remind himself that he was no longer a student, but now a staff member at the prodigious school, which still seemed very surreal to him, and that he had no cause to be nervous about this meeting.

“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall laid her quill aside and rolled up the scroll with a flick of her wrist, "It’s nice to see you.” She offered another small smile and he realized she was probably friendlier to members of the faculty than she was to the students, and he was going to have to get used to a less-severe version of his former Transfiguration Professor.

“Thank you, Headmistress, and you as well,” he replied courteously with his own small but genuine smile.

“Your summer holiday was enjoyable?”

“Yes, very. It was nice to be home for a bit, and I was able to take care of some things for my mother with regards to the estate and accounts.”

“Very good,” replied McGonagall with a brisk nod of her head before pinning him with a curious look, “And how is Miss Granger?”

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink and he couldn’t stop the grin that tugged on his cheeks, but he met her firm gaze straight-on as he answered, “She’s well, thank you. I just saw her over the weekend, in fact.” He was positive he saw a sparkle in her beady eyes at that, but she gave nothing away in her tone of voice.

“I’m glad to hear it. I received an owl from her first thing this morning, regarding the date of the first Game Night for your group.”

Draco nodded, “She had said she was going to write to you as soon as she got back to Potter’s. May I ask what weekend was decided upon?”

McGonagall nodded and shuffled some papers on her desk, looking for one in particular. When she found it, she held it out for him to read. It was a response to Hermione that he assumed would be sent shortly, and it indicated that the third week of the month had been chosen. He sat back in his seat, indicating he had finished and she set the paper back on her desk.

“I believe she wanted a consistent weekend each month, and the third should work for everyone in that regard, as most holidays do not take place around that time. I trust Professor Weasley spoke with all of you about using the Room?”

“Yes, thank you for allowing that. Everyone was very excited,” Draco replied with a grin, remembering how happy his housemates had been when Bill had delivered that bit of news.

“You’re quite welcome. It seemed the best option, given the circumstances, and the space will be available for other visitors when needed.” McGonagall rifled through more papers before extracting a sheet and perusing it briefly, “Speaking of available space, you have your choice of three sets of rooms for your own this year. There are chambers on the ground floor of the East Wing that Madam Hooch used whenever she was on duty. There are also chambers on the third floor of the North Wing, and the fifth floor of the East Wing. You may inspect them at your leisure and decide which one will suit best. Just let me know once you have chosen so I may alert the elves.” With this, she handed a small piece of paper to Draco with three room numbers on it, which he took and pocketed, feeling rather excited about the chance to choose his living quarters.

“Most of the staff has already returned from their holiday, and, as you know, students will arrive on Friday. The Welcome Feast will take place that evening as usual, but then there is the weekend to contend with before lessons will begin.” She sighed as if the calendar had personally offended her.

“Are there specific plans or activities in place for the weekend?” Draco asked, figuring the lack of structure right off the bat was what bothered the orderly witch.

“That’s what I am trying to decide,” McGonagall admitted, “While I know the students are fully capable of entertaining themselves, I feel it would be nice to have some things in place, particularly for the new students, while they all settle in and adjust to life in the castle.”

“Could the mentors be assigned their First Years after breakfast on Saturday?” he offered, feeling like this would at least occupy a bit of time for the youngest bunch. McGonagall fixed him with a thoughtful stare for a moment.

“That’s an excellent idea, Mr. Malfoy. I will be meeting with the Heads tomorrow to pair up the mentors and their charges, so that is definitely something that could be arranged. I would simply need to gather the Seventh Years after the Welcome Feast to let them know.” She nodded decisively and made a note to herself on yet another piece of parchment. He marveled that she could tell one from the other as her oversized desk was covered with various pages.

“Perhaps we could plan something school-wide for Saturday evening or Sunday afternoon,” he suggested, “I can work on that this evening if you want, come up with a few ideas?”

She nodded again, “Thank you; that would be most helpful.” She gave another small smile, “First things first, however. You should go choose your chambers.”

He stood up and gave a small bow in her direction, “I’ll do that right now, Headmistress. Thank you.” He rounded the chair and was almost to the door when he heard her speak again.

“Welcome to the staff, Mr. Malfoy. I’m glad you’ve joined us.”

He looked back and met her steady gaze, pleased to see she was still smiling and he answered with one of his own, “Me, too, Headmistress.” And with that, he swept out of her office and down the hall.

ooOoo

He decided to start at the top and work his way down, as far as inspecting the rooms went. After spending six years in the dungeons of the castle, he could honestly say he had no desire to live on a lower floor, so the idea of a suite on the main level wasn’t his first choice. He wound his way through the empty but familiar corridors, up several flights of stairs, before arriving at the door to the available quarters on the fifth floor of the East Wing. It was unlocked, the password waiting to be set by its new inhabitant, and as he crossed the threshold he was pleasantly surprised. The sitting room was the same size Bill and Fleur had, with a small sofa and two armchairs centered on the fireplace, which was flanked by bookshelves, and a coffee table in the middle. A small, round table with three chairs stood in what would be considered a kitchenette, complete with several cupboards filled with dishware, a tray holding a full tea service, and room for snack storage. A half-sized stove took up one end of the counter, and what he soon discovered was a small icebox stood at the other end next to a narrow sink. The far wall of the space contained a large window with a lovely view of the mountains in the distance, and the edge of the lake was just barely visible in the bottom corner. Directly below him stood the greenhouses, and he could see right through the glass roof into the plant-filled space. Just beyond the kitchenette was another door that led to a bedroom with an attached bath. The furniture in there was almost identical to what had been in his Eighth Year dorm, though the textiles weren’t quite as colorful, centering on more muted tones of beige and brown. He knew that would be an easy fix if he were to choose this apartment, and while he thought it would suit his needs just fine, he did want to see the others, as well.

Closing the door behind him, he began his trek to the second option on the third floor of the North Wing. The door was tucked at the far end of the corridor, and the first thing he noticed upon entering the sitting room was that it was definitely smaller than the one he’d just left. An overstuffed loveseat faced a small, stone fireplace that also was flanked with bookshelves, though narrower than the previous space held. There was a squashy armchair to the right of the couch, but instead of a second chair, a cushioned window-seat existed to the left. As he approached the mullioned glass, a wide grin broke out across his face – the Quidditch pitch was in full view – and he knew without hesitation that this was the suite he wanted to claim. Still smiling, he inspected the rest of the apartment. Instead of a wall of cabinets and counter space, a large hutch took up most of the wall behind a small square table with two chairs facing each other at either end. There were no appliances, but he really didn’t think he’d need those since he’d be eating with the staff and students, and if absolutely necessary, could always request food be sent to his room. The bedroom was the same as that of the other quarters’, and the en suite was more than adequate. The window in the bedroom boasted the same view of his favorite place on the Hogwarts grounds, and he felt a deep sense of contentment flood his soul as he gazed out at what would soon be his domain.

He paused in the sitting room as he made his way towards the door, envisioning the shelves filled with books, his framed map hanging above the mantle, and several photographs sitting upon it. Inhaling deeply and nodding to himself, he decided to forgo a tour of the last option, instead going in search of McGonagall to let her know he’d made his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! I hope everyone's weekend was a good one, and Happy Mother's Day to all my readers who have littles to take care of :) I'm super excited about Draco's return to the castle, the role he will play, and the new opportunities he'll have to show the world the man he's becoming. We'll check in with Hermione in the next chapter. Thank you - as always - for reading and sticking with me on this journey! <3


	10. Career Paths and Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione visits the Ministry and learns about the opportunities available to her.

Two days after returning to Grimmauld, Hermione had an appointment with Gawain Robards, Harry’s boss and head of the Auror Department. Though she had no inclination whatsoever to become an Auror, or work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in any capacity, the seasoned officer had invited her to meet with him and she felt she’d much rather have a conversation with someone she’d met before as she started her journey to gainful employment.

The portfolio she’d put together while in Redland sat in her beaded bag, and she did her best to dress in a way she thought was mature and professional, though she still felt like a little girl who’d been playing in her mum’s closet when she looked herself over in the mirror. A narrow black skirt, paired with a pale blue, silk blouse, and her black ballet flats was about as grown-up as she was going to get. She’d tamed her hair into a low, side ponytail, and applied a light coat of makeup, hoping she looked a tiny bit older than she normally did, and that, quite honestly, she wouldn’t be so easily recognizable. Draco had told her about his welcome in the Auror department, and while she was immensely pleased that he’d been so highly regarded by so many, the thought of all that attention made her cringe. Harry promised to stay by her side, but she didn’t know if that would draw more attention to herself or less.

Taking a final deep breath, and shaking out her hands to get rid of some nerves, she gathered up her bag and headed downstairs to find her best friend so they could floo to the Ministry together. The raven-haired wizard was waiting for her by the fireplace and greeted her with an easy smile.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“It will be fine, Hermione. I’ll walk you straight to Robards. I’ll even go the back way if you want, and cut through the conference room to avoid as many people as possible.”

She appreciated the offer, but when he said it like that, it sounded rather ridiculous, “No, it’s fine. Just the normal way is good.” She sighed deeply, “I just don’t like notoriety, you know?”

He chuckled wryly, “Yes, believe me, I know. My first month in the department was like a constant red carpet event. I finally had to ask Robards to make an announcement forbidding everyone on our floor from asking me anything about the Battle, or my scar, or basically anything having to do with my existence in the magical world. He even threatened to have me start using my invisibility cloak just so they’d leave me alone.” He snorted, “I felt like a bit of a tosser about it; I know they didn’t mean any harm, but it shouldn’t take me twenty minutes to get to the lift on the regular. I think the autograph was what finally sent me over the edge.”

“What autograph? I don’t remember anything about an autograph.”

Harry scrubbed his hand over his face and groaned, “A very…shall we say enthusiastic fan…cornered me in the lift one day and asked me to sign her…well, her…” he gestured vaguely to the area over his heart, his cheeks flaming red and Hermione burst out laughing.

“Ugghh. I was mortified. I bolted out of the lift at the next stop. I can only imagine what the warlock waiting to get on thought as he found a partially-disrobed witch in my wake.”

“Oh goodness,” Hermione wheezed, “No wonder that never made it into any of your letters!”

“Yes, right, so, as you can see, I understand your distaste for public attention,” Harry composed himself and attempted a very businesslike manner, which only made her smirk at him in teasing.

“Let’s just get on with it, then,” she gestured to the fireplace where they stepped in together and vanished in a whirl of sparks and smoke.

ooOoo

Hermione’s appearance on Level Two definitely caused a plethora of double-takes, backwards glances, stammered greetings, and whispered comments between coworkers, but for the most part, people kept their distance. She had the distinct impression it had nothing to do with her refusal to make eye contact with anyone, and everything to do with the extremely serious look her best friend had plastered on his face the second they stepped out of the hearth in the department’s reception area. Harry had his “I’m on an important mission, don’t bother me” look firmly in place, complete with furrowed brows and clenched jaw. He’d taken her gently by the elbow and steered her through the maze of cubicles and pathways, barely glancing anywhere other than straight ahead, and only nodding briskly at one or two people. The singular exception was Dean, who happened to be waiting for them right outside Robards’ office, a wide grin spreading across his face as they approached.

“Dean!” Hermione exclaimed, giving her friend an exuberant hug, “What are you doing here? And congratulations on your new job! How wonderful!”

“Thanks,” Dean returned her hug and then stepped back to look at her. “Don’t you look all professional,” he teased, earning himself a playful swat on the arm, “Just wanted to pop in and say hello. Maybe we can all grab lunch when you’re done?”

Hermione glanced at Harry, who nodded happily and replied, “I’m sure there’ll be time for that. I’ll make sure no one takes her to the archives before noon, otherwise we’ll never see her again.” Both wizards sniggered, but the curly-haired witch only went wide-eyed.  
  
“The archives? Do you think they’d let me,” but Harry cut her off.

“No. Absolutely not. At least not today at any rate,” he tilted his head towards his boss’ door and arched a brow, “You have a meeting, remember? Trying to land yourself a job? Save all the magical creatures?”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she huffed, rolling her eyes at him before turning back to Dean, “But lunch would be lovely!”

“Alright then,” her former-housemate grinned and started making his way towards the lifts, still talking over his shoulder, “See you in the café. And good luck – not that you’ll need it!”

Feeling bolstered by the friendly exchange, Hermione forget to be nervous as Harry knocked on Robards’ door and opened it when bidden by the man inside. The burly Auror stood from behind his large and messy desk, extending his hand in welcome, a wide smile on his face.

“Hermione, good morning,” he shook her hand warmly and gestured for the two of them to sit in the chairs opposite his own. “I take it you made your way in with no problem?”

“Yes, sir, it was fine. Thank you so much for allowing me to come in and talk to you.”

Over the next three-quarters of an hour, the older man asked several pointed questions about what Hermione was interested in, and what sort of career path she saw herself taking. She answered honestly, and was encouraged by the fact that he didn’t seem to think her ideas naïve or juvenile. When he asked if she’d brought any sort of resume with her, she shyly took out her portfolio and handed it to him, and had her confidence raised another notch as he exclaimed over her exam scores and her concise objectives. He pinned the Chosen One with an amazed look and said he most definitely hadn’t been exaggerating about his best friend’s abilities, which Harry responded to with a wide grin and a shake of his head.

“They’ll be fighting over you by the end of the day,” Robards chuckled and Hermione’s cheeks turned pink as she thanked him again for his assistance.

“No problem at all,” he waved one had in dismissal, “Happy to do it. I’ve come up with a bit of a schedule for you today; set up a few meetings. I hope that’s alright?”

“Of course,” she replied, surprised but very pleased that he’d taken the time to do so on her behalf.

He simply nodded and spun a piece of parchment around on his desk, sliding it towards her so she could read it from her seat:

_10:00 – Gethsemane Prickle, Director of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures_

_11:00 – Octavia Malkin, Office for House-Elf Relocation Liason_

_-Lunch-_

_1:00 – Benjamin Croaker, Supervisor of Werewolf Registry_

_2:00 – Alice Hornbeam, Director of Wizengamot Administration Services_

Hermione beamed at Robards after reading her timetable for the day, “Thank you so much, I truly appreciate you setting these all up.”

“Not at all. I figured these would be some key people to introduce you to; folks who could answer some questions pertaining to what you want to do. As I’m sure you can imagine, the wheels turn rather slowly around here when it comes to making changes, but that doesn’t meant it can’t be done,” he smiled kindly at her and nodded at Harry, “Potter, you can take her around, make sure she gets where she needs to go. I’ll contact you if I need you to come back in for anything today, but I’m hoping it will be a slow one.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll be back here when we’re finished,” Harry replied and stood from his seat, Hermione following his lead and plucking the schedule from Robards’ desk, and in a few short strides, they found themselves back in the hallway.

“Did you know he was going to do this?” she waved the parchment at Harry who shook his head and smirked.

“No, but I’m not surprised. He’s asked me several questions about you recently that made me think he might have been up to something. A lot of people are intimidated by him; think he’s standoffish and demanding; but I think he’s fantastic,” Harry shrugged and continued, “He’s looked out for me since I got here, but not in a ‘teacher’s pet’ kind of way. More so making sure I get the experience I need to, and that I go through the paces with everyone else. He knows I just want to do my job well, and that I don’t want special treatment or people fawning all over me.” He rolled his bright green eyes, “I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

Hermione chuckled as they made their way to the lift, excited for her first meeting of the day, “You don’t have to go everywhere with me, Harry, I’m sure I can find my way around or ask someone to show me where to go.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I turned in the last of my recent reports yesterday, and the case I’m currently on isn’t a high priority. Robards did that on purpose, knowing you’d be in this week, and also knowing I’d be checking in on Malfoy up at Hogwarts now that he’s moved in.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as she thought of her favorite wizard, realizing that at that very moment he was back at the castle, probably meeting with Bill, or taking inventory of Quidditch supplies. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face and was already looking forward to telling him all about her day in their two-way journal. She was pulled from her thoughts as the lift came to a halt.

“First stop,” Harry announced, grinning at her, “Let’s go!”

ooOoo

The rest of Hermione’s day at the Ministry flew by. She thoroughly enjoyed every meeting, and her brain was full to bursting with new information and ideas. Mrs. Prickle had been very thorough in her line of questioning, and seemed significantly impressed with the young woman before her. Miss Malkin had been practically star-struck when two-thirds of the Golden Trio walked into her office, but had composed herself at once and engaged the two visitors in lively conversation, offering more than a few hints regarding her wish to have the Brightest Witch of the Age in her department. Mr. Croaker was, at first, quite intimidating, but once they started talking about her favorite former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he warmed to her exponentially. Lastly, Mrs. Hornbeam reminded her of Professor McGonagall; blunt and to-the-point, no nonsense, but with a plethora of information to impart. It all left the young witch with a great deal to consider as she made her final trek of the day back to the Auror Department, where she would pop in to see Robards once more before going home.

She and Harry sank into the same seats they’d occupied earlier in the day as the Director finished whatever he was writing before turning his attention to the younger pair across from him.

“So, how did it go?” he looked at them expectantly and Hermione filled him in on the bits and pieces that stuck out the most to her at the moment, and her initial impression of each official she’d met with. Robards nodded in agreement at her description of Croaker.

“Yes, he and his brother Saul are quite interesting. Not exactly what I’d call friendly on first encounter, but both excellent at their jobs.”

“I’ve heard the name before,” Hermione mused.

“The Department of Mysteries,” Harry interjected, “He used to work with Broderick Bode, remember?”

“Oh! Yes!” she exclaimed, recalling the story of the Unspeakable who had been strangled by a houseplant. It was done to keep him from alerting anyone to the attempts that had been made by the Death Eaters to obtain the fated prophesy involving Harry and Voldemort.

“You had time for lunch as well, yes?” Robards asked.

“We did,” Hermione replied happily, “Several of our friends were able to join us, I didn’t realize so many of our former schoolmates worked her now.” It had been a truly pleasant surprise when Dean, Seamus, Angelina, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Terry Boot had all joined her and Harry in the cafeteria. She’d also run into Cho Chang, Susan Bones, and Michael Corner throughout the day. And Dean told her that Anthony was applying to be a clerk in the Archive Department, which she thought would be a wonderful fit for the academically inclined wizard.

“Glad to hear it,” the older wizard responded with a nod of his head, “There’s definitely been a higher influx of younger witches and wizards in the last year. I think many, like yourselves, want to see changes take place in our world. While there are some magical folk who will fight you every step of the way, I think it’s about time improvements were made.”

Both Harry and Hermione were heartened to hear the seasoned Auror say so, and after a few more minutes of friendly conversation, and another effusive litany of gratitude from the curly-haired witch, the pair took their leave so Harry could walk her to the department floo.

“I’ve got to get a couple of things done before I can head home. I’ll see you in a bit?” he explained as they paused before the grate.

“I’ll be there,” she smiled warmly, thoroughly pleased with the way the entire day had gone, and looking forward to settling down with a steaming cup of tea as she wrote Draco all about it. She passed through the flames with her smile widening at the thought of her favorite wizard, wondering what he was up to just then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry will be more visible in this story than he was in the first, simply because Hermione is living with him and they'll be spending more time together, and I'm excited for the chance to build his character further as he continues to pursue his career, his friendship with Draco, his relationship with Ginny, and many other aspects of his now-adult life :) Thank you so much for reading and commenting and sticking with this story! <3


	11. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco does a bit of decorating and ruminates on how much has changed in a year.

Draco was really quite proud of himself, truth be told. He’d gone to tell McGonagall which apartment he’d chosen, and then had immediately gone back up to unpack and organize and move things around until he was satisfied with the result. He stood back now and grinned, knowing full well that decorating his small suite of rooms wasn’t anything major, but still rather pleased with what he’d accomplished.

He’d left the comfortable loveseat and chair, both covered in moss-green corduroy, centered in front of the fireplace where he’d found them, and had transfigured several existing bath towels into throw pillows, including some for the window seat, and an extra cloak became a tartan throw, which he folded across the back of the small sofa. A rather threadbare rug lay on the stone floor, but a few helpful charms made it larger, thicker, and less faded. He’d taken a small, spindly end table and transfigured it slightly so it became a wider and lower version, suitable for a coffee table, and placed his photo album from Hannah there, as well as a copy of _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_ , which he was currently reading after being thoroughly berated by both Hermione and Theo for not having done so before.

Above the mantle, he hung his map, and beneath it on the stone ledge’s left-hand side were a large photo of him and Hermione, a medium sized one of him with his mother, and another of his aunt and cousin. On the right-hand side sat a statue of a dragon his mother had bought for him when he was nine years old, after he’d whinged about it for hours as they’d shopped in Diagon, finally wearing her down enough to drag her back to the store, where he’d bounced at her elbow as the clerk wrapped it up. It was shiny, black porcelain, with gold detailing to its scales and horns, and gleaming red eyes. The figure had sat on his nightstand ever since he’d brought it home, and while he’d never taken it to school before, he decided it could use a change of scenery now. He thought it looked rather impressive standing sentry in front of the stone wall.

Bookshelves flanked the fireplace, and in pride of place on an eye-level one was the large photo his favorite witch had given him of their whole group of housemates, and surrounding it were several knick-knacks pertaining to their Eighth Year and in particular, their Game Nights. A box of M&M’s, a deck of playing cards, the ukulele from the Luau, which Dean let him keep, an empty and washed Nutella jar, his shot glass from the Monopoly game, and an inflated whoopee cushion he’d nicked from Theo, among others. It looked like a colorful display for a store window, and made him smile every time he glanced at it. Most of his books from home filled the rest of that case, and carried over to the other across the way. A prominent spot over there was given to his Wizard Chess set, and a lower shelf housed his collection of Quidditch figures, encased in a handsome wooden box that looked like a small trunk.

In the kitchenette, the small wooden table and chairs were centered on another worn-out rug that he quickly spelled to match its larger counterpart in the sitting area. He wasn’t much for floral arrangements, but turned a mug into a chunky, blue pitcher he thought would look nice with some sort of greenery or branches in it, and made it the centerpiece, flanked with stout, yellow candles. The hutch behind the table held more than enough dishes, goblets, mugs, bowls, and silverware for his use, and a full-service tea set was laid out on a tray on the surface under the glass doors. The drawers beneath contained a random assortment of cloth napkins, extra candles, a tea cozy, a half-full tin of biscuits, and a variety of tea bags, the latter two causing some trepidation since he had no idea how long they’d been there, and simply vanished them. A second mental note was made to obtain a proper assortment of tea and biscuits, as well as a pot of honey, a tin of cocoa, and a bag of marshmallows for when Hermione visited.

His bedroom consisted of the traditional, four-poster bed, matching nightstands, a dresser with mirror hung above, and a small desk and chair. The hangings were neutral, earthy tones, which he immediately changed to something more to his liking. The comforter became a brushed flannel of pewter grey, and the pillows a pattern of navy blue, forest green, and silver, similar to those in his room at the Manor. The bed hangings and window curtains turned the same dark blue, while the cushions on the window seat were changed to green and grey. On one of the bedside tables, he placed another picture of him and Hermione, along with the two-way journal and quill she’d given him. The cabinet below became the holding spot for his cauldron and potions tools. The other nightstand held several candles, and a small tray where his cufflinks, watch, staff badge, and wand would sit each night.

He enlarged his desk slightly, since he knew he would need a decent amount of space to work on lesson plans and course material, and turned the straight, wooden chair into a cushioned, more comfortable version. More candles, quills, inkpots, and his planner took their place as well, and the largest drawer was filled with rolls of parchment. Above the desk he hung the painting from France he’d brought along, as well as a small bulletin board where he’d pinned his daily schedule, the dates for the year’s Quidditch matches, and a list of room numbers for the other faculty and staff, should he need to find them beyond normal hours. In one corner, he’d stacked two of his favorite textbooks; his Third Year DADA book, and his Fifth Year Potions edition, and on top of them, the small photograph of Hermione from Valentine’s Day, along with the seashell she’d sent him from Redland, and the box containing his new coach’s whistle.

His dresser now housed all the clothes he’d brought with him, and his robes were hung on the wall hooks nearby. He chuckled wryly at the fact that he was basically going to continue wearing a school uniform, even though he was no longer a student, but it didn’t bother him. He’d never found the standard trousers, oxfords and ties to be nearly as uncomfortable as many of his classmates had, though he knew that had more to do with his upbringing than personal preference. Over the course of the last year, he’d branched out slightly and started wearing lightweight jumpers with no shirt underneath, and had even tried a pair of what Potter called “cackies” or some such nonsense, with a short-sleeved collared shirt like he’d seen Edward wear. He still hadn’t ventured into the realm of jeans and t-shirts, and wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do so, though he couldn’t deny his appreciation for Muggle denims on his girlfriend. Speaking of, he’d made a copy of his favorite photo from the album, the one of the two of them on the couch in the Room last term, and set it in a large frame beneath the mirror, next to his comb, cologne, and tie stand. He couldn’t help smiling every time he watched the short replay of their moving figures.

The en suite bathroom contained a standard toilet, pedestal sink, and walk-in shower. Nothing fancy, but completely serviceable, and the only accommodation he’d made was to bring his own towels. He discovered back in First Year that the ones provided by the school left much to be desired. He knew he sounded like a poncy git, but he liked large, fluffy bath linens, and there was no reason he should do without when he had access to a sizeable collection in the Manor’s hall closet. He placed a stack of them in a wicker basket in his washroom, each sporting a grey, monogrammed “M” so the elves would know where to return them when they’d been laundered. After setting his toiletries in their appropriate places, he nodded to himself with a sense of finality and gave his quarters one more overview before setting off to the owlery to make sure Apollo had settled back in. He planned to write several letters that evening, and needed his feathered familiar to be content and well-rested before sending him off on a multi-stop mission.

ooOoo

_Hello love,_

_I know we’ve got our two-way journals, and I’ve already checked in with you since arriving at the castle, but I’ve been thinking a lot about us and our relationship, and my promise to officially court you once we’d graduated. I still have every intention of doing that, though I realize it will look slightly different with us being rather far apart and not being able to see one another often. While a formal courtship typically consists of elaborate gestures designed to impress (which I know you abhor), endless bouquets of flowers (which I plan to send you despite your protests), and awkward conversations in a parlor while a “chaperone” sits just out of earshot (which is wholly unnecessary since we already know we are perfectly capable of behaving ourselves – much as I might not want to), the entire purpose of the archaic ritual is to give the couple a chance to become better acquainted with one another. I’d like to think we know each other quite well after spending the whole of last school year together, but I know there’s aspects of me and my life you aren’t familiar with yet, and I don’t know that I will ever cease to wonder about every minute detail of who you are and what makes you the amazing, brilliant, compassionate, beautiful, magical person who’s completely and entirely captured my heart._

_So, for the moment, I’ve decided to begin by sharing some thoughts and memories with you that will hopefully give you a better glimpse of the deeper side of me, not that it’s all that impressive. You know I’m not very good at talking about my feelings or showing much outward emotion, though I do think I’ve gotten better about it over the last year, and it’s definitely easier for me to write my thoughts down than to talk about them in person. I hope that’s alright. I also hope you understand that I simply want to share these things so you can know where my mind was during different periods of time in my life; not because I am searching for validation or pity or anything of the sort. To borrow a common Muggle phrase, “it is what it is.” Every situation, every choice, every step of my journey has led me here, to you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way._

_Which brings me to the real subject of this letter; the events of exactly one year ago today. This was the day the Eighth Years arrived at Hogwarts, the day before the school year was to begin, and the first time I would be facing my new housemates since the war. To say I was nervous would be a gross understatement. I had no idea what to expect, and was prepared to be at best, civilly ignored, or at worst, vehemently berated as soon as I walked into the Room. I was immediately proven wrong in my assumptions when Dean greeted me and showed me around, and I still feel a massive wave of humility when I recall my initial interaction with Neville. To be accepted so openly, after everything I had done, after the horrible way I had treated him (treated everyone, really) over the years, was humbling beyond words. I struggled that evening at dinner, warring with myself over whether or not I should believe the friendship being extended was real. I wanted it to be, so very badly, but the Slytherin in me warned that there had to be underlying motives. That perhaps it was a plot to make me feel comfortable before exacting some sort of revenge, which I would have wholly deserved. I hadn’t been able to trust anyone in so long, and yet that was all I wanted to do. I’m pretty sure my ancestors rolled over in their graves when I finally told the last remaining vestiges of my old self to sod off, and solidified my determination to forge any and all new relationships that would be afforded to me that year. And the one I was the most curious about, the most drawn to? You._

_I don’t know if you noticed, but I watched you at dinner that night. I caught your eye a couple of times, but most of my observations were less noticeable (or at least I hoped they were). I had thought about you every day since visiting your home, and repeatedly wondered at your ability to forgive me with such simplicity. I knew I didn’t deserve it – I still don’t truly feel like I deserve it – but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t mean more to me than any physical possession I’d ever owned (and that’s saying something, since you know how fond I am of my broom…and my chess set…and my emerald-eyed dragon cufflinks). I watched as you chatted with others at the table; the easy manner you retained with everyone and the genuine smile you graced them with. I wanted so much to be on the receiving end of that friendly gesture and wondered if the tenuous connection we’d made in your kitchen would grow to something bigger. Your reaction to me at the joke shop had been confusing and left me wondering if you were still fearful of me, and that thought felt like a lead weight in my stomach. At the time, I honestly believed I was just seeking a companionable, platonic relationship with you, but looking back I have to admit that my mother might have been right about my being drawn to you in a much deeper way. When you invited me to see you room, I felt like I was being gifted something wonderful; I had been hoping you’d let me but would never have asked, and the second I stepped over the threshold I felt like I was home. When you shared the news from the healer who’d written earlier that day, I wanted nothing more than to pull you into my arms and comfort you while simultaneously hexing the person who’d stolen the light from your eyes._

_I had never felt those things before; had never felt the urge to comfort someone that way, never felt so protective of another, never felt so welcome and comforted by a place as I did in your room in that moment. While the Manor might be my childhood home, and there are parts of it that hold fond memories and obvious familiarity, those walls also carried the weight of constant expectation and stifling conformity. By the time I was of primary school age, meal times were no more than lectures from my father about what was and was not acceptable for a Malfoy, and those stipulations bled over into virtually all aspects of my young life long before I ever boarded the Hogwarts Express. Once I finally left for school, a foolishly naïve part of me believed I’d be free from his overbearing shadow, able to make choices for myself for once. How wrong I was. Every move I made, every student I befriended, every test grade I achieved, he knew. I’m unsure if Snape was responsible for the constant stream of information that reached my father, or someone else, but regardless, it became abundantly clear after the first month passed and I received a letter berating me for my unsuccessful attempts to befriend The Chosen One, as well as for coming in second on my Transfiguration essay behind a swotty little lioness (now MY swotty lioness). As you can imagine, it only got worse as time went on and his suppositions increased while my attempts consistently fell short of the mark. The older I got, the more my father’s attempts to gain favor with Voldemort intertwined with his mandates for me, until I firmly believe they were one and the same._

_It wasn’t until I was chucked into Azkaban that I knew I was finally, completely free from my father’s suffocating control, but by then, what good did it do me? I honestly didn’t think I’d ever set foot outside again, but then Potter showed up and we all know what happened after that. I decided, while staring at my cell walls, that I wanted nothing to do with the man my father had expected me to become and was determined to do the exact opposite of everything I’d been raised to embrace from there on out. Apologizing to you was the first, tiny step in that direction. Looking back, that note I sent you was embarrassingly short and insufficient, but you would have thought I’d poured my soul out in a novel-length missive for how emotionally spent I was after penning it. I was a mess in the weeks that followed, wondering if you got it, what you thought about it, if you still hated me. Sitting at your kitchen table was a surreal experience and a major turning point in my life. I left there that day feeling that if you, of all people, could find it in your heart to forgive me after all I’d done to make your life miserable, then perhaps there was hope for me yet._

_Which brings me back to the events of a year ago. I left your room that night with a myriad of thoughts and emotions running through my head and spent a good portion of that night sorting through it all. I was cautiously optimistic after the way things had gone and the welcome I’d received from everyone, but the fact that you treated me like a friend, picked up from where we left off at your house, was what really gave me reason to believe things could be better. That I could be better. For the first time in my Hogwarts career, I fell asleep the night before term was to begin unconcerned about the weight of expectations, free from the fear of retribution if the Malfoy line wasn’t towed, without a scheming thought or selfish plot entering my mind. Instead, I honestly looked forward to the classes I’d be taking, the new routine that would be established, and the time I might get to spend with one particular, adorable, curly-haired witch who’d already started to fill a hole in my heart I hadn’t even realized was there. I don’t know if I can ever fully explain how much of who I am today goes back to those early moments you granted me, but I will be forever grateful._

_I love you, Hermione._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

By the time she reached the end of the letter, Hermione had tears coursing silently down her cheeks. Her heart swelled with pride for the wizard who’d captured her heart, while simultaneously clenched with regret for all he’d endured in his younger years. Once again, the reality of the time that had been lost due to prejudiced mindsets and lines drawn in the sand brought a weighty sadness upon her, but she quickly shook it off. Draco had specifically said he didn’t share these thoughts with her to make her pity him, and she knew he’d feel badly if he thought she was wallowing. He was right, their early years were what they were and nothing could change that, but the future was full of possibilities and hope and the promise of something better, and she thought they were off to a rather good start.

Tracing his signature with her finger, she smiled at the looping script before folding the missive and tucking it into her nightstand drawer where she kept all his notes, as well as a stack of photos of the two of them, and a variety of sentimental items she’d collected since they’d been together: the paper hearts he’d sent her on Valentine’s Day, replicas of the little metal Monopoly tokens they’d used in their final game of the year (the race car and Scottie dog), a pinecone from their favorite spot on the bank of the Black Lake, among other things. She glanced over to her desk by the window and her smile widened as she took in the large bouquet of pink, orange, and yellow Gerbera daisies that had arrived with the letter, both carried by Apollo who had settled in next to Cyrene on her large perch after several gulps of water and three owl treats. She knew better than to tell Draco he didn’t need to send her flowers; he was going to do so regardless, and if she was being entirely honest, she really did love receiving them.

She thought about his idea to share the “deeper side” of himself as part of this long-distance courtship and agreed with him in that, while they did know each other quite well within the realm of school and hobbies and interests, there were many aspects of each other’s lives that they had only barely scratched the surface of. They’d had several long and heavy conversations during their months in the castle specifically regarding the war and the events directly connected to it, but there was much more ground to cover if they chose to. She knew she’d write back in the days to come, and that her letter would include details about herself that few others would be aware of. The concept of opening herself up to someone so completely unnerved her a little, not because she doubted Draco’s sincerity or because she didn’t trust him, but simply because she was unfortunately used to people getting to know her, the real her, and then losing interest and walking away. That was something she’d endured all through primary school, and even during her early years at Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were the only two constants in her life, and even they’d had their moments where they’d abandoned her. She realized, however, that it had taken a lot for her favorite wizard to share those things with her, and that he probably had some misgivings of his own about letting his guard down so fully. For that reason alone, she would return his trust in kind.

In the meantime, she took out her journal and jotted a quick note, simply wanting to let him know she’d received his letter and had been deeply touched by it, and that Apollo would be spending the night. She thanked him for the flowers, told him she missed his handsome face, that she loved him, and was counting the days till she would see him again. After placing a border of “x’s and o’s” around the few lines of script, she closed the journal and got into bed, drifting off almost at once with a smile on her face, and the image of a pale, blonde wizard in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Draco setting up his own space; having something more than just a dorm room to call his own; something that represents who he is now and the people and things that are important to him. As the title of this story implies, a lot of the communication between characters will be through letters and journal entries, particularly when it comes to my favorite couple :) Thank you so much for reading and commenting - you have no idea how happy it makes me to know others are enjoying these characters and the journey they're on. Hope everyone is safe and healthy and doing alright as the quarantine continues!! <3  
> P.S. If you haven't had a chance to read my other works (mostly one-shots, and all Dramione except for one) I would love for you to check them out :)


	12. Just Around the Bend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione hears from a friend, and gets some exciting news about a job.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Thank you so much for your letter! I can’t wait to see everyone in just two weeks; it seems like ages since we’ve all been together, but I suppose two and a half months isn’t all that long. I’m super excited for our Game Nights to start up. Can you give me a hint about what game we’ll play first?_

_I love working here at Gladrags! Mrs. Beecham is wonderful; treats me like a favorite niece, which my own aunt never even did, honestly. She’s always asking me if I need anything, if she can help me at all, and telling me how talented I am. I showed her some of my designs and she went on and on about how wonderful they were. It meant a lot to me, especially since my mother barely glanced at them when I was home to pack, and didn’t say anything at all. She just signed and shook her head, like my desire to pursue this career was the most disappointing choice I could have ever made. Seriously? I can think of a dozen things that would be a million times worse just off the top of my head. Is it truly so horrid that I don’t want to waste my time playing tea party with society witches until some “suitable” wizard agrees to my father’s betrothal terms?_

_Sorry, I don’t mean to unload this on you. I made the mistake of telling Mrs. Beecham how my parents felt about all this and now I can’t mention them without her launching a tirade about “unsupportive people,” and “recognizing artistic genius,” typically followed by a long-winded story about how her father never forgave his brother for leaving the family business and striking out on his own. Suffice to say, I don’t bring it up anymore. On the other hand, Astoria thinks it’s positively thrilling, mostly because she can get away with just about anything now. If mother starts reprimanding her, she can say, “Well at least I’m not going to do something plebeian, like work in a shop.” (She doesn’t really think that, and has been nothing but supportive of me, but she’s going to play whatever cards she can to get our mother off her back about marrying as soon as she graduates. The latest scheme involves Marcus Flint, who is about as desirable as a goblin, and has the intelligence of a rock.)_

_Speaking of wizards though, you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve seen Oliver twice now since moving to Hogsmeade. We owl fairly regularly, but he surprised me the first weekend by showing up in the shop with a flat-warming gift; a bottle of Elvin wine and a small, potted plant. He was beet red in the face, and stammering all over himself, and it was so very sweet. He hung around until closing and then we went for dinner at the Three Broomsticks. It was lovely. He’s lovely. I can say that about a boy, can’t I? Regardless, I’m going to. He’s very thoughtful and kind, and easy to talk to, and so different from the stuffy, uptight Purebloods my mother has forced me to tolerate in recent years. He’s got perfectly fine manners and is an absolute gentleman, without all the aristocratic airs I’m usually subjected to. For the first time, I’m with a wizard who simply likes me for me, and who regularly tells me how lucky he is that I give him the time of day. Of course, I tell him he’s being silly, but I’ve never had that before. Two summers ago, I endured more orchestrated pairings than I care to count, and on every single occasion, I was told in one way or another, how lucky I was to be the recipient of such time and attention. Like I wasn’t fully aware of the fact that they were only there to try to sink their claws into my family’s fortune, and that it had nothing to do with what they thought of me at all._

_If I roll my eyes any further into the back of my head, I feel certain they’ll stick there, so I will stop. Instead, I shall tell you about the fabulous new bakery that has opened up next door to Honeydukes. Oliver and I went there the second time he visited, and they have the most amazing sticky buns and hot chocolate. We sat outside under one of the patio shades for hours, talking about everything and nothing, and making up stories about the people we saw walking by. He has a wonderful imagination and I laughed so hard my face hurt by the end. Did you know he has a dimple in his left cheek? It shows up when he grins, which he seems to do a lot when we’re together, and I think it’s adorable. Do you think you and I could come to the bakery for tea or something when you’re in town? I’d love to show you my flat and the shop, too._

_I almost forgot! Mrs. Beecham has asked me to officially design a new robe for the holiday line! I couldn’t believe it when she said so, and I must admit I asked her if she was joking. Thankfully, she understood I wasn’t being rude, but was just truly flabbergasted by the offer. I’ve already started sketching some ideas. I’ll show you those, too. Oliver told me I should do one in red and wear it whenever he takes me out for our Christmas date. It’s nice to know he plans to stick around at least another three months! Ha ha! Do you think I could invite him to a Game Night sometime? Or are we keeping those to just the ten of us? Or maybe you and Draco could go out with the two of us one night, for a double date? That would be fun! I think he and Draco would get along famously since they both love Quidditch so much._

_I miss seeing you. I miss our chats in front of the fire, and the late nights we’d stay up with the other girls in one room. It already seems like that was so long ago. I’m glad we’ll all be together again soon. And I’m glad your trip to the Ministry went well. You know they’ll give you a job – they’re probably just figuring out which office is good enough for the Gryffindor Princess (don’t give me that look – you know I’m only joking!). Once you’re settled, I might have to pop in to make sure the décor is suitable. Government establishments are so often lacking in style._

_Signing off here since the robes won’t design themselves!_

_Hugs,_

_Daphne_

Hermione chuckled softly as she finished her friend’s letter. Oh, how she missed the beautiful blonde witch. Never in a million years would she have imagined Daphne Greengrass, Pureblood heiress, becoming one of her closest friends, yet, here they were. For as logical and academic as Hermione was, Daphne was creative and free-thinking. The two were, in many ways, polar opposites, but that seemed to be one of the things that drew them together, and the former-Gryffindor was extremely thankful for it.

She was very happy to hear how well things were going between Daphne and Oliver Wood. They had hit it off at Harry’s New Year’s Eve party and had kept in touch in the months that followed. Oliver travelled a lot in his role as Keeper for Puddlemere United, but it seemed he was making a concerted effort to show Daphne he was interested in maintaining their relationship, and Hermione knew that meant a great deal to her friend. She agreed that a double date would be a lot of fun, and made a mental note to mention it to Draco in her next journal entry. She also couldn’t help her own snort of derision at the description Daphne had provided of her previous would-be-suitors. How very grateful she was, not for the first time, that she hadn’t been born into the Ancient Noble House of Anybody, so she didn’t have to put up with such nonsense. Daphne was an intelligent, compassionate, witty, and all-around amazing young woman, and any man who couldn’t acknowledge that didn’t deserve her.

Nodding firmly and giving a final sniff of disdain, Hermione set the letter aside on her desk, resolving to answer it after dinner, which she could smell wafting up the stairs. Kreacher had specifically told her he was making her favorite that night, bangers and mash, and she’d truly been touched by the gesture. The old elf’s shift in demeanor towards her had given her the opportunity to engage him in conversation and learn more about his life. While definitely less bright and cheerful than a house elf’s existence at Hogwarts most surely was, Kreacher spoke of his early years with fondness, and particularly of Regulus in such a way. He seemed, however, to have separated his “pre-Master Harry” days from his “post-Master Harry” ones, and was unable to compare or contrast them. Instead, he simply assigned his change of heart to the defeat of the Dark Lord, and his observation of the Chosen One and his friends, which allowed him to acknowledge that perhaps he hadn’t known all he needed to about non-Pureblood witches and wizards before.

Having granted himself the freedom to learn and express interest in new things opened the door for a whole new dynamic between Kreacher and the Muggleborn witch currently living at Number Twelve, and he had waded, cautiously at first, into that pool with wide eyes and perked-up ears. Like her human counterparts, he found Hermione to be friendly and warm, generous and caring. She shared things with him, things he’d never thought about before, like snacks or candy, and she taught him how to play cards, and how to work the funny box in the cabinet that had moving pictures. Hermione treated him with respect, and asked him to do things instead of ordering him around, and always thanked him, which he obviously liked. To show her he appreciated all these things, he’d started making some of her favorite foods almost as often as he made Harry’s. Tonight was one such occasion, and she wasn’t about to be a second late for his friendly offering.

ooOoo

The very next evening, Hermione was positively trembling with excitement when Harry stepped through the floo. He’d barely had time to brush the ash off his trousers when she came barreling into the sitting room and smothered him with an enthusiastic hug and squeals of incoherent joy.

“What’s going on? What happened?” he finally managed when she extracted herself, and he noticed she was clutching a piece of parchment in one hand.

“They’ve offered me a job!” she shrieked and started hopping around in a circle, and he grinned at the sight of his normally-composed flatmate.

“Who, exactly, are ‘they’?” he questioned, causing her to stop and meet his gaze with wide-eyed and flushed-cheek euphoria.

“The Being Division _and_ the Legislation Office of the Wizengamot!” her voice was higher and louder than normal and she clapped her hands gleefully, further crumpling the paper she was holding. Realizing this, she thrust the damaged missive into his hands, encouraging him to read it for himself, which he promptly did as he sat down in the nearest chair.

_Miss Granger,_

_After much discussion and consideration, we would like to offer you a newly-appointed position at the Ministry of Magic. It will be a joint venture between the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures – Being Division, and the Wizengamot Office of Legislation. We feel your talents and abilities would be most beneficial in the role of a liaison for fully and part-sentient beings who require assistance, as well as in pursuit of more beneficial laws for said beings._

_If this sounds like something you would be interested in, please respond at your earliest convenience so we can schedule a time for you to come in and sign the proper documentation, as well as to discuss the details of your position and whatever tools, access, or assistance you might require._

_Thank you for your interest in working with us. I look forward to hearing from you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Gethsemane Prickle_

Harry finished reading the short note and looked up to find Hermione beaming at him, clearly waiting for a response. He didn’t disappoint.

“This is amazing, Hermione!” he exclaimed as he tugged her in for a celebratory hug, “They’ve gone and created a job specifically for you!” He couldn’t help the laugh that rolled out, “I knew they’d jump at the chance to hire you, but this is even beyond what I expected.”

“I know,” she agreed breathlessly, “I’m a little nervous that they’ve made such a big deal out of it all, but I can’t deny I’m immensely pleased. I’ll get to help more than just House Elves. The Being Division includes Goblins, Vampires, Veela, and even Giants. And honestly, one of the first things I want to tackle is the fact that Centaurs and Merpeople are considered “beasts” and not “beings” when they are completely sentient. They shouldn’t be in the same category as Firecrabs and Pixies, and,”

“Yes, yes,” Harry cut her off, his eyes twinkling with mirth at what would be an endless diatribe if he let it go on, “You’ll bring equality and inclusion to the magical world one species at a time, I’m sure. Just promise me you’ll pace yourself. Start with something realistic; something that won’t completely capsize the boat. Maybe settle for a slight rocking of it first.” He grinned at the look of consternation on her face, but was secretly relieved when it faded to an expression of understanding.

“You’re right,” she agreed, “I really need to spend the first bit taking an in-depth look at what laws and provisions are already in place, before I can start pointing out why they’re wrong.” The smirk that crossed her pretty features was nothing short of dangerous, and Harry knew there was a storm brewing beneath the surface. He only hoped she’d take his advice and start small; he didn’t think the Wizarding World, with its ancient ideals and staunch traditions, was quite ready for the hurricane of improvements and progress his best friend could unleash.

“Well, this calls for a celebration, yeah?” Harry announced, and Hermione grinned and nodded in response. “Tomorrow’s Friday, let’s see if we can get everyone to meet at the Leaky and you can share your news.”

With that decided, they set about making a list of who to owl while Kreacher prepared dinner and told them all about Roy’s latest tricks. Apparently, the wizened elf had taught the puff-mouse how to ring a bell in order to earn a treat (which Kreacher had started making him from scratch and insisted the small pet preferred them to the store-bought ones). He had also decided that Roy liked music, and brought the fluffy thing downstairs every afternoon for an hour, so he could enjoy whatever songs played on Lupin’s old gramophone. The pair of friends listened and politely replied at appropriate intervals, all the while biting their lips and refusing to look at one another, lest they bust out laughing and offend their housekeeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope this week finds you all doing well and managing these unusual times alright. I will never be able to full express how much it means to me that you're reading this story and following me on this winding little path. This chapter gives us a glimpse of where Hermione is headed, and very soon the gang will be reunited for their first Game Night of the year :)   
> I posted a one-shot yesterday called "Metanoia," and would love for you to check it out. The idea had been bouncing around in my brain for almost a year before I finally figured out how i wanted it to go. Let me know what you think!


	13. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George tells an amusing tale, and Hermione responds to Draco's letter with some admissions of her own.

The Leaky Cauldron was noisy and crowded, as was typical at the start of the weekend, but the large group in the back corner was oblivious to the curious glances and pointed gestures directed their way from the other patrons. Harry was used to the attention he drew whenever he was out in public, but having the other two members of the Golden Trio by his side for once created even more of a stir. The three friends, along with George, Katie, Angelina, Dean, Seamus, Hannah (who’d clocked out early from behind the bar), and Anthony, spent the evening catching up over multiple pints of butterbeer, platters of meat pies, fish and chips, and pasties, and later on, shots of Ogden’s and bowls of pudding.

“Can yeh believe righ’ now, they’re havin’ the Welcome Feast up at the castle?” Seamus reminded them, “I though’ of it last year, as well. Always feels a bit odd, like I’m missin’ somethin’.” His friends nodded in understanding and Dean piped up.

“Draco and Neville will both be there. Wonder if they’ll get to sit at the Heads' Table?”

“Can you imagine getting stuck sitting next to Trelawney?” George snickered, his sentiment shared by all.

“I’d rather sit next to her than Slughorn,” Katie mused, “He was so full of himself.”

“He actually was a lot better this past year,” Hannah said, “I felt like he really made an effort to get to know all of us, didn’t you?” She looked at Anthony, Dean, and Hermione as she said this and they all agreed.

“Absolutely. Remember how he helped me out when that creep, Adrian Pucey cornered me?” Hermione asked her former housemates, having shared the encounter once she’d returned to the Room later that evening.

“Pucey?” interjected George, “Why was that git up at the school?”

“Oh, he’s a governor now,” Anthony provided, sneering the title and making his thoughts on the former-Slytherin’s appointment abundantly clear.

Several looks of incredulity were sent his way, and Hermione decided to fill them all in on the two brief, yet unenjoyable interactions she’d had with the arrogant Pureblood. Her story launched a series of amusing tales about inter-house rivalries, pranks, and sabotage that had taken place over the years, completely hidden from the faculty, and widely unknown by most of the students, unless they were directly involved. Most consisted of older students trying to dupe younger ones from other houses into doing things that might get them into trouble, thus losing house points. To no one’s surprise, George’s contribution to the shared litany topped them all.

“Has Malfoy told you about his swim in the Black Lake?” the red-headed wizard asked Hermione, though his gaze also flickered to Harry and Ron, and all three shook their heads.

“No, but I’m pretty sure he told my dad about it,” Hermione offered, remembering the scene between them in the library after graduation. George guffawed as he considered that before continuing.

“Well, about three months into you lots’ First Year, Fred and I had decided the smarmy prat needed to be taught a lesson. Every time we had the misfortune of being in his vicinity, we heard him droning on and on about his ancestry, his perfect Pureblood line, how powerful his family’s magic was, blah, blah, blah.” He paused for a moment and looked rather apologetically at Hermione, “I know he’s not like that anymore, but you can’t deny he was a right spoilt arse when he was younger.”

“Oh, absolutely,” the petite brunette agreed with a shrug, “And he’d be the first to tell you that, now.” Harry, Ron, and all of Draco’s housemates nodded in complete accord with that statement, and George raised his glass in salute of their reformed rival.

“Anyway, Fred and I started saying things around him, making comments we knew he would hear. Made it sound like we were speculating on some long-held mystery about Merpeople and their connection to those with ‘hair of silver’ and ancient bloodlines,” he snorted and rolled his eyes. “Of course, he noticed and started paying attention. We caught him sneaking up behind us, or waiting around corners he knew we’d pass, just to see if we were talking about it again. Even went so far as to move his seat in the library a couple of times to be within earshot of our table.”

Everyone snickered, more than able to envision younger Draco doing exactly what George was describing, and knowing he’d have been dying to know what this secret information could mean for him.

“So, one night, Fred and I set ourselves up in our usual spot, and sure enough, the little gel-head comes in and sits down at the table right behind us. We pretend we don’t notice, and start talking a little louder about the book we’ve got. It was an old text about magical creatures, and we’d spelled a portion of the page on Merpeople to include a paragraph about their human descendants always having white-blonde hair, silver eyes, pale skin, and a special marking on the back of their thigh, right underneath their left buttock.” George’s shoulders were now shaking with laughter, and around the table, chuckles and snorts were let loose as they realized the whole story had just leapt to another level of mischief.

“I’m going to guess that marking suddenly appeared?” Harry intoned, unable to keep from laughing at the thought of where this was going.

“Right in one, but we’re not there yet,” George cautioned. “Still back at the library, right? So, we discuss our findings for a few more minutes, making sure he hears us talk about how the book explains how such a fortunate soul could enter the underwater world and visit with their distant relations, and made a big show of putting the book back on a shelf in plain sight before we left.” He sighed with apparent appreciation for their success before going on, “We hid behind the tapestry across from the library doors, and not three minutes after we’d left, the little git comes scuttling out with the book under his arm. He was so intent on getting back to his dorm, he never noticed the spell Fred shot at him as he went by. It wasn’t anything harmful, don’t worry.” He looked specifically at Hermione as he admitted this part.

She waved him off, knowing the twins would never do anything to seriously injure someone, but was caught off-guard by the question Seamus threw at her before George could continue.

“So, does Malfoy still have a mark under his left arse cheek?” the Irish wizard wiggled his eyebrows and flashed her a cheeky grin. Her face flushed immediately and her eyes flew wide.

“I don’t…I’ve not…we’ve not…” she spluttered and huffed and flapped her hands in mortification as every single one of her tablemates laughed hilariously at her obvious embarrassment. “Ugghh, I have no idea, nor would I tell any of you if I did,” she countered fiercely with her hands pressed tightly over her eyes, which only caused them to laugh harder. After a second or two, George took pity on her and called their attention back to himself.

“Passing over Malfoy’s buttocks,” he smirked at her, “The jinx was a simple stinging hex that we’d modified to leave the outline of a small, purple oval, similar in shape to a fish scale, and of course, identical to the one in the book. It was meant to last several hours, and we knew we could cast it again if he didn’t go through with it right away.”

“Go through with what?” asked Hannah, her eyes wide.

“Oh no,” Ron breathed with a maniacal gleam in his eye, apparently guessing what the twins had set in motion.

“Though we were not privy to the next hour or so, we were confident in concluding that young Malfoy went straight to his dorm and with the assistance of an unlucky friend, was able to confirm the existence of aforementioned mark. The reason we believed as such was that he appeared at the edge of the lake not long after he’d gone to the dungeons. Of course, Fred and I were camped out nearby, waiting to see if he’d take the bait, and we were not disappointed.”

“How’d you know where he’d go? The lake is huge, he could’ve shown up anywhere,” Dean wondered.

“Oh, Dean,” George shook his head with theatrical disappointment, “Do you think the informative text he pilfered from the library didn’t have specific instructions regarding the precise location and time one would need to approach the scene? Fred and I weren’t about to sit out there all night simply hoping we’d find him.” He snorted with derision and looked haughtily offended, “What do you take us for? Neophytes?” Everyone laughed at that as they hung on his next words.

“As expected, we saw his shiny little noggin come bobbing out of the passageway that leads directly to the dungeons from the grounds. He was accompanied by his two cronies, and was carrying the book. They came right to the water’s edge, less than ten yards from where we were hiding behind that huge oak tree. He started looking around on the ground, because the book had said ‘one should enter the water where the white mushrooms grow.’ He found them, of course, and immediately started stripping off. It’s early December, mind, so it’s bloody freezing out there. We could hear his teeth chattering before he’d even got his socks off.”

“We’d written a nonsense spell in the book that would supposedly give him the ability to hold his breath indefinitely underwater. Load of Hippogriff dung,” he grunted, “But like a good little wizard, Malfoy practiced the spell a couple of times before stepping up to the edge of the lake. We expected him to get a few inches in, maybe up to his knees, before deciding it was too sodding cold, and go running back up to the castle. The show we got was _so_ much better.” George was struggling to speak as his laughter increased, and he needed a moment to compose himself before he could keep going.

“The idiot blurted out the spell and dove into the water – completely submerged himself in one go – and apparently tried to swim down to the depths. He was under for over half a minute, which impressed us, before he came splashing and choking back up to the surface. By then, he was a good fifteen yards out from the bank, and as he started swimming back towards his friends, something grabbed him and yanked him back under. At this point, Fred and I started worrying that maybe he’s in danger and we’ll need to help, but he popped back up again, this time screaming about water demons and carrying on to wake the dead. Pretty sure he scared off whatever was trying to get him, because he made it back to the shore in one piece, and tore off towards the castle, soaking wet and wearing nothing but his pants.”

By now, everyone around the table was in fits, each of them more than capable of imagining the dramatic scene and wishing they could have been there in person.

“His two goons stared after him for a mo’ and then grabbed all his stuff and followed. The next day, we overheard a couple of Sixth Year snakes talking about it in the hall. Turns out a Grindylow had tried to drag him away but he told everyone how he fought it off,” George gave a loud hoot, “Showed all his dorm-mates the scratches on his arms and legs, making it seem like they were battle scars, but when Montague told him his cat had done worse, he quit.”

“He never found out you set him up?” Katie asked, her eyes still teary from laughter.

“Nope,” George looked right pleased with himself, “Put the book back the next day and never spoke of it again. Just for fun, the following year Fred and I happened to be walking behind him on our way to Potions, and Fred said something about a “merpeople mark” and I swear his blonde head whipped around faster than a rogue bludger.” He snorted, “Of course, we acted like we didn’t notice and he hurried off, probably to see if his mark was still there.”

“That’s awful,” Angelina swatted him on the arm playfully.

“Nah, he was fine,” George shrugged it off and met Hermione’s gaze once more, “Might have to ask him about it next time I run into him. See if he can piece it all together.”

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly and grinned at the lanky prankster, “I’m sure he could.” She giggled to herself again, knowing exactly the kind of reaction her favorite wizard would have to this revelation and determining to ask him for his version of the story the next time they were together.

ooOoo

_Dearest Draco,_

_Your letter was so lovely and so open and honest – it brought a combination of tears and smiles, and just made me miss you even more than I already do, which is quite a lot. I’ll be completely honest and say I wasn’t sure where to begin with a response. There are so many stories I could tell you, so many details about my life I could share, that it’s rather overwhelming to pick a starting point. I really liked your idea of recalling where we were this time last year, and though the story I’ve decided to tell isn’t exactly twelve months to the day, I think you’ll appreciate it all the same._

_You mentioned our encounter at the joke shop and the odd way I reacted to you. Yes, it was definitely odd, but it wasn’t your fault in the least, and I’m rather mortified you even noticed. I promise I’ll explain, but I have to back up a bit before I can get to that part. I had been genuinely touched by your letter after the trial, and had thought about replying numerous times, but simply couldn’t seem to manage it with everything else going on with regards to my parents and the decisions I needed to make. To say that I was shocked when Harry brought you to my house doesn’t even begin to cover it, but I was very glad he did by the time it was all over. Don’t ever tell him I said this, but he’s very intuitive and I think he knew exactly what would happen if he forced us to spend time together, and I don’t think he was the least bit surprised by anything that took place that day._

_As you sat across from me at the kitchen table, I saw the regret and shame as clear as day on your face. You might be skilled at schooling your features most of the time, but in that moment I saw the haunted look of someone who had shaken off his old life, but wasn’t quite sure how to proceed in his new one. I wanted so much to grab your hand and tell you it was going to be fine; that everything would work out. I wanted to dissolve into a puddle of tears over the mess we’d all endured and the heartache that remained. I wanted to hug you and promise that I would be your friend if you’d let me, and that I’d stick by you when we got back to school. Obviously, I did none of those things out of fear of your reaction, assuming you’d think I’d gone barmy and decide to distance yourself as much as possible. I felt a connection to you that confused me, but didn’t scare me. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of you, even in our worst moments._

_That day at the joke shop I was…caught off guard. I think that’s the best way to put it. You see, when you came to take the puff-mouse off my head, you stood close enough for me to smell your cologne and… other things. (Merlin, I sound absolutely mental – stop laughing at me – I know you are!) Ugh. Okay, here goes. You smelled exactly like the Amortentia I’d described in Slughorn’s class back in Sixth Year. Freshly mown grass, new parchment, ink, and spearmint toothpaste. Happy now? Good. So, here I was, minding my own business, when George’s new prototype decided to make a nest in my hair, and you come along smelling like that and looking like you, and it was all I could do to get out the door with any semblance of my dignity intact. I’ll have you know, I argued with myself for days afterwards. Days, Draco. Tried convince myself it was just a coincidence; that everyone has access to those things and I was reading far too much into it, but then we arrived at school and you came into my room and it was still there. I even went so far as to sniff the other boys at random times that first week, trying to prove they’d each have similar scents. Nope. They don’t. Dean smells like Quidditch gloves, fall leaves, and whatever cocoa-butter shampoo he uses. Neville smells like warm earth, flowering plants, and wool sweaters. Anthony is something smoky and spicy that I can’t really identify, and Theo smells like new planks of wood, crisp mountain air, and coffee. And while all of those might be nice, pleasant aromas, none of them draw me in like yours does, and I spent the better part of the first month of school holding my breath whenever you came within an arm's length of me. _

_Since I know you’re already beside yourself with glee over my admissions, I’ll bolster your over-sized ego even more. By the end of September, if you’ll recall, we played that very first Game Night round of Pictionary, and you hugged me right after we won. I thought I was going to burst into flame – my cheeks were so red – and I couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it had felt to be wrapped in your arms (even though the rest of our team was completely squashing me, and I got poked in the eye). Shortly after that, Ginny cornered me into admitting I might have feelings for you by pointing out the fact that I knew way too many details about your daily routine to be a casual observer. Apparently, my knowing how you like your porridge was proof enough of my undying love and affection. I remember feeling relieved after she and I had that conversation. I was happy that I’d confessed to having feelings for you, and that I felt like maybe there really was a chance for us to have something more. Ginny certainly seemed to think there was, at any rate. Right after we left breakfast, it was time for Defense, and I always sat one desk behind and to the right of you, which gave me a perfect view of your profile. I can unashamedly admit now that I spent the whole of that lesson staring at you, marveling at how the sunlight glinted on your hair through the windows, and wondering what it would be like to run my fingers through it. I’m pretty sure I even doodled something ridiculous like hearts and initials on my parchment at one point, though I immediately vanished them and reminded myself that we were just friends, and that I needed to focus on my studies and not get moony-eyed over a boy who probably considered me nothing more than a classmate._

_So there you have it, an explanation of my bizarre behavior in the joke shop, as well as some insight into my thoughts about you during our initial month as housemates. I did pay attention, far more than I realized at the time. I always seemed to know where you were, and definitely noticed when you weren’t around. I found myself looking for you as soon as I entered a room, even if I directed my focus elsewhere. And I saw it – saw the changes you were making, the effort you put into your relationship with everyone, the shift in your demeanor as you grew more and more comfortable in your own skin. The first time you smiled at me, really truly smiled from the inside (as Luna likes to say), I almost melted. There are countless memories I have of you that are engraved on my heart from long before we were ever anything; words you said, actions you took, even certain facial expressions that conveyed much more than a surface reaction. One of my favorites is a night when you were playing chess with Neville after dinner. To see the two of you sitting together, enjoying a friendly game, having a quiet conversation that had both of you chuckling and grinning throughout just meant the world to me. I had to stifle a massive urge to go over there and hug you. I was so proud of you, so impressed by your continued efforts to mend bridges, and so very happy that you seemed to have settled in and found your place in our eclectic little group._

_Today, roughly a year later, I am still tremendously proud of you, still consistently impressed by the man of integrity and compassion you have become, and still so grateful for the place you have claimed in my life. I count it both a blessing and a privilege to call you mine, and while I know the road will not always be smooth, and the conversations won’t always be easy, I can say with certainty there is no one else I would rather share the journey with._

_I love you, Draco,_

_Xoxo,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. I have some questions about your mermish ancestry. Perhaps you can tell me about that next time I see you?_

Draco let out a hearty guffaw at the postscript to Hermione’s letter, knowing exactly what she was referring to, but wondering how she’d heard the story. Perhaps her father had shared it with her at some point. It was definitely not one of his finer moments, but something he could laugh at now when he looked back on it. Though he’d never attempted to prove it, he had a sneaking suspicion the Weasley twins had a hand in the whole ridiculous ordeal.

The correspondence in his hand had brought more than a slight prickling to his eyes as he read the words of support and admiration from his girlfriend. Her stories made him chuckle, and he could hear her voice through her script as clearly as if she’d been right beside him. That was one of his favorite things about letters from her; she wrote just like she talked, and he could hear the smile in her tone when she was teasing, or the roll of her eyes when she was exasperated. For someone who had been raised to believe emotions were a sign of weakness, he fully embraced every ounce of sentiment that exuded from his passionate witch. To know that she’d harbored feelings for him early on warmed his heart; at the start of the previous school year he hadn’t dared let himself think she’d ever look twice at him, but apparently he’d worried for nothing. Now he understood her wide-eyed, panicked expression when he’d stood so close to her in the shop, and knew he’d one day have to tell her about how Theo called him out for sniffing after her. The fact that she had actually gone around to the other blokes – he wasn’t going to let her live that one down anytime soon.

With one last chuckle and a shake of his head, he put the letter in a book on his shelf; the same one he’d used to store all the missives from Alcott last term. He’d jot her a note in their journal before bed, letting her know he’d received and thoroughly enjoyed her recollections, but in the meantime, he needed to visit the broom shed and make sure everything was in order for his upcoming flying lessons next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, my lovely readers! I hope this new week is off to a positive start for all of you, and want you to know how much I appreciate you sticking with me for this story :) This was a fun chapter - I love creating little "flashback" moments that give glimpses of their younger years and things that might have happened in between the pages of J.K.R.'s beloved narrative. <3  
> Side note - My latest one-shot, “Waking Up,” is posted. Would love for you to check it out!


	14. The Thrill of the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco helps plan some start-of-term activities, and his new coworkers agree to help with surprising delight.

Draco’s first week of school as a member of the Hogwarts staff flew by in a whirl of happy welcomes, nervous First Years, anxious would-be Quidditch players, and lots and lots of meetings. He had been very pleased with the reception he’d been granted in every one of Bill’s Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, with the expressions of the students ranging from surprised to excited to mildly awestruck (though that last description belonged mostly to a handful of Second and Third Year girls who seemed to fall into the same category as Darla when it came to the handsome wizard).

The now-Second Years were thrilled to see him and enthusiastically accosted him at the Welcome Feast the first night in the castle. All of the staff had been encouraged to attend, and anyone who was not a Head of House was requested to sit among the students at the long house tables, which would only be used that one night for the sorting. Throughout the entire meal, Draco was forced to hurriedly choke down mouthfuls of food so he could greet yet another one of his young friends. Christopher had just about strangled him, and Malcolm nearly knocked him over when he tackled him with a hug. Olivia hung onto his arm for a solid ten minutes, and Darla just stared at him with doe eyes until Allison dragged her away. From the second night on, the Great Hall was filled with the smaller, combined-house tables, and the younger staff members chose to sit together, since the Head Table really wasn’t big enough for all of them.

Draco now took his meals with Neville, who was earning his mastery under Professor Sprout, Penelope Clearwater, who was the new Transfiguration Professor, a former Beauxbaton student named Emilie who was a healer-in-training under Madam Pomfrey, and Marcus Belby, who was in his second year of mastery under Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher. They were also joined by the Head Boy and Girl, a pair of Seventh Years who had the responsibility of overseeing the Mentor Program, and often used the dinner hour to pick Draco and Neville’s brains about their previous experience with it all, especially since their first contributions to the school year had been such a success.

True to his word, the new Flying Instructor had spent several hours mulling over activities to occupy the students during the first weekend at the castle. As the Headmistress had expressed some dismay over the lack of structure for those initial days, he had wanted to come up with something that would both entertain the young witches and wizards, as well as placate his no-nonsense supervisor. He’d been strolling the grounds, wracking his brain, when he’d come across Neville outside Greenhouse 2, his arms filled with pots of venomous tentacula which needed replanting, and he’d jumped in to help. As the former housemates worked side-by-side, Draco filled him in on his current task, and they discussed possible scenarios, eventually coming up with a scavenger hunt. Extremely excited about their idea, they had both rushed up to McGonagall’s office to clear it with her before actually setting off to put it all together. She’d listened to their plan with what Draco was sure had been an amused glint in her eyes, and waved them off with her blessing, as well as a reminder to make sure they cleaned the mud off their shoes next time they came charging through the castle.

The next day, the two young men spent all morning, all afternoon, and most of the evening touring the corridors and grounds. Anyone who might have observed them would have thought they were possibly taking inventory of obscure artworks, or writing an historical essay about the ancient school, armed with rolls of parchment and quills as they were. In reality, they were looking for random objects in far-off corners and hidden-away alcoves to include in their hunt, and creating riddles to go along with each one. For example, the following clue was meant to lead students to the statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor, near the Prefects Bathroom:

_Though his portrait still hangs lower, a stone image stands above._

_A sentry to a privileged place, who oft confused his gloves._

This puzzle, along with more than twenty others, was written on a scroll that was then duplicated numerous times. Each Seventh Year was told to complete the scavenger hunt with his or her First Years on Saturday afternoon, and the rest of the student body was welcome to join in as well. While there was no implicit rush to the activity, all participants needed to turn in their completed scroll by curfew that night, in order to have their results checked and points awarded. Each individual who completed the task would earn two points for their house, and if all the questions had been answered correctly, an additional five would be given. The very first team to hand in a fully finished and perfectly scored parchment would be crowned the winners of the hunt and gifted with a small prize. In honor of their Game Nights, Draco and Neville decided to put together assortments of Honeydukes sweets for the victors, which would be handed out at breakfast on Sunday when the results were announced.

Having taken care of the first day of the weekend, Draco began pondering ideas for Sunday afternoon as he gazed out the window of his new living quarters. Of course, the view was of the pitch, and he couldn’t help but think about a match taking place, but between who? The house teams had not yet been determined, and his young flyers from the previous year hadn’t practiced at all, nor would there be time for it, so those options were out. That left the faculty and staff. He considered this for a moment as he made a mental list of those who could potentially participate. He and Neville for sure, though the former-Gryffindor would claim incompetence on a broom, Draco had noticed marked improvement in his form over the past year when the five Eighth Year wizards would pick up a scrimmage just for fun as a break from studying. Bill Weasley was better than decent, and he was quite sure Belby could fly, too, though that was still only four of them, not even a full side.

He broached the subject at breakfast on Thursday, the night before students were to arrive, and was both surprised and immensely pleased by the response from his coworkers. Professor Sinistra admitted that she had played for her own house team a few decades ago, as had Professor Vector, and both witches were excited to play in a friendly match against their colleagues. Professor Humboldt, who had joined the faculty during what would have been Draco’s Seventh Year as the new Ancient Runes teacher, said he’d been a Beater at Durmstrang, where he’d graduated from only four years earlier. Both Emilie and Penelope reluctantly agreed to fill in as Chasers, and Professor Flitwick, to everyone’s great surprise, offered to assist as well. This unexpected announcement led to some good-natured ribbing towards the other, more senior members of the staff, and eventually Professor Sprout, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Slughorn all resigned themselves to a spot on the team. This left one position open, and everyone knew Hagrid was far too heavy for a broom, Filch didn’t have enough magic to stay up on one, and neither Madam Pince nor Professor Trelawney would even consider getting an inch off the ground. As a result, everyone stared with great anticipation at the Headmistress, who was doing a brilliant job of ignoring their pointed looks while creating some form of modern art with the jam she was fixedly slathering on her toast.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she huffed once the silence grew unbearable.

“Oh, come on, Minerva,” Professor Sprout encouraged from the far end of the table.

“Absolutely not,” the severe witch bit out, still refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Think how thrilled the students would be,” Professor Slughorn added genially, “They’ve never seen their teachers play before.”

“I’m sure we can get our younger counterparts to take it easy on us,” Madam Pomfrey winked at Draco and Neville, a small smile quirking at the corner of her mouth.

“We could even put a time limit on the match, play for no more than an hour,” offered Professor Flitwick.

“We don’t have to wear the standard uniforms, either,” interjected Bill, “Everyone could wear whatever they’re comfortable in and we could just wear jerseys over top.”

“If you’re worried about falling,” Professor Vector began, “We could always place a cushioning charm,” but the Headmistress cut her off.

“Oh, for pity’s sake, fine!” McGonagall threw up her hands in surrender, clearly succumbing to peer pressure and not wanting to be seen as anything less than supportive of her school and her staff, “But one hour only. I will be playing Chaser, and if any of you even _think_ about knocking me off my broom,” her beady eyes swept menacingly around the table and lingered for a moment longer on Draco, Neville, and Bill in particular, all of whom responded with wide-eyed innocence, before she reached for her teacup and sipped demurely from it as if she’d not just threatened the room at large.

Triumphant grins were exchanged all around the table, and a practice time was set for that afternoon, before which, Draco figured he should split them into teams and make sure all the equipment was ready, and set about his tasks once breakfast was cleared away.

ooOoo

To say that the faculty-staff match was a success might have been the understatement of the year. The stands were packed with students eagerly awaiting the never-before-seen spectacle of their teachers zooming about on brooms and behaving in a far more relaxed manner than they had ever recalled.

Everyone had been summoned to the pitch a half-hour before the match was to start, so as to enjoy a bit of a pre-game show. Draco had owled George to see if he had anything similar to fireworks that would be more visible in broad daylight, and the lanky redhead did not disappoint. Apparently he and Ron had been working on something they called “confetti clouds” for several months and had only recently finished the testing and prototype phase. George offered to bring a large batch of the new product up to the school for a fraction of the price, and would consider the debut performance as a form of mass advertising. The fifteen-minute show consisted of a rainbow of paper glitter bursting forth from magical clouds that floated above the stands. Similar to fireworks, the confetti formed recognizable shapes and patterns, and awed the onlookers with its colorful display. Much to the staff’s relief, the paper bits disappeared into nothingness before reaching the ground, thus relieving them of what would surely have been a substantial mess.

As the starting time approached, the teams marched onto the pitch, brooms in hand and chins held high. As they had done with the First Years the previous spring, the teams were gold and silver, with an even split of younger and, to put it politely, more-seasoned members on each. The Gold Team consisted of Bill, Marcus, Professor Sinistra, Professor Flitwick, Penelope, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Sprout. The Silver Team was comprised of Draco, Neville, Emilie, Professor Slughorn, Professor Vector, Professor Humboldt, and Headmistress McGonagall. The crowd of students went absolutely wild as their teachers and heads-of-house were announced, and Draco had a moment of sheer panic coupled with a massive urge to bust out laughing at the unlikelihood of it all as he silently prayed to all the Founders that everyone would reach the end unscathed. The last thing he needed was word to reach the Minister that he’d put the entire faculty at risk by suggesting this hairbrained event.

Hagrid had enthusiastically agreed to referee for them, and once the snitch had been released, the game was on. Draco had been very pleased with how well the two practices they’d managed to squeeze in had gone, and while the older players weren’t quite as quick or fluid as some of their younger counterparts, they definitely had enough skill to make it an interesting competition. It still made him nervous, none-the-less, to see his former-teachers gliding about in the air, and he repressed several urges to tell them to slow down, or not go so high. Despite her typically easy-going nature, Professor Sprout was ruthless as a Beater, and Professor Flitwick was ridiculously fast. The fact that he was smaller than everyone else made him more difficult to spot as he wove in and out of the other players in his role as Chaser. Professor Slughorn was playing Keeper against the Gold Team’s Professor Sinistra, and both of them were able to block multiple shots before any points were scored. Professor Humboldt had apparently been very modest when mentioning his skills as a Beater, and Headmistress McGonagall took to her position with a combination of fierce competitiveness and restrained poise as she zoomed around the field, passing the quaffle with her teammates.

They had set a one-hour time limit, as per the Headmistress’ request, but as they reached the mark, the score was tied. A time-out was called and the players gathered together around Hagrid in the center of the field to discuss their options.

“We can call it a draw,” offered Neville kindly, not wanting to overtax the more mature staff members.

“Absolutely not, Mr. Longbottom,” McGonagall snapped, causing everyone’s eyebrows to shoot up and their jaws to drop, “We shall play until the tie is broken, or the snitch is caught. Whichever comes first.” With that, she nodded firmly and looked to Hagrid to set them all in motion once more.

The kindly giant was clearly hiding a grin behind his bushy, black beard, and his dark eyes were twinkling with mirth as he addressed the teams, “All righ’ then, get back on yer brooms, an’ three, two, one, game on!” His roared command was heard around the stands as the crowd cheered in rowdy anticipation of the unexpected bonus.

Another twenty minutes or so went by with goals being routinely blocked and the snitch remaining elusive, but then, Draco saw it. Hovering mid-way up the pitch, some twenty feet above the highest level of bleachers, it fluttered almost lazily, as if it, too, was watching the match. He started making his way towards it just as McGonagall and Professor Vector flew past him, tossing the quaffle between themselves, and flanked on their outer sides by the Silver Teams Beaters. Draco was less than two yards away from the snitch as Neville faked a bludger towards Professor Sinistra, causing her to lurch to the right, and he had just stretched out his arm, his fingers grazing the golden wings as McGonagall hurled the quaffle through the left hoop.

The roar of the crowd was immediate and deafening, and in the split-second he let his eyes flash to the goal, the snitch escaped his grasp. He sighed and shook his head, chuckling to himself as he flew back down to the center of the pitch where the teams were gathering in a huddled mass of celebration. The Silver Team had won with their tie-breaking score, and he was content with that. He was also more relieved than he cared to admit that all thirteen of his fellow players were none the worse for wear. Everyone was red-faced and sweaty, but fully intact and thoroughly pleased with themselves for what they’d accomplished. As the hugs, handshakes, and slaps on the back subsided, McGonagall stepped away from their group, magically magnified her voice, and addressed the students still in the stands.

“Thank you all for joining us for this historical event,” she cleared her throat and dabbed at her forehead with a white lace handkerchief, “All students should now head back to their house dormitories until dinner. I’ll ask our Head Boy and Girl, as well as our Prefects, to lead the way.” She nodded briskly to the older students, two of whom had commentated for the match, and slowly the crowd began to disperse and make its winding way back up to the castle.

“Well,” she turned her attention back to her staff, her mouth tipped in an unmistakable smile and her eyes positively sparkling with pride, “I think that was a brilliant success. Thank you for coming up with the idea, Mr. Malfoy,” she inclined her head at him and he returned the gesture in kind. “I’m not sure we’ve ever had such an exciting start to the year, and I feel quite certain it’s only set the tone for what’s to come.” The rest of the group grinned and murmured their agreement before she continued. “I believe we’ve all earned a bit of a rest before dinner, hmm?” Again, her words were met with enthusiasm as they all turned and started to head towards the broom shed, many of them making a point to shake Draco’s hand or clap him on the back as he stopped to collect the four balls and put them back in their trunk.

“Nicely done, Draco,” Bill remarked as he grabbed one handle of the case, helping the tall blonde lug it to the shed, “I don’t think that could’ve gone better.”

“Thanks, I’m glad it went well,” he replied, “And I’m really glad McGonagall scored the winning goal. I’m pretty sure she’d have held it against me the rest of the year if the Gold Team won.” They both chuckled wryly at the thought.

“I saw you almost catch the snitch,” Bill admitted and Draco grinned sheepishly.

“I was so close,” he complained, allowing himself to whine about it for a second or two.

Bill laughed heartily as they set the trunk down and locked the shed before making their way towards the castle. He squeezed the back of Draco’s neck in a friendly gesture, “You’ll get it next time.”

“Next time?” grey eyes flashed to blue and widened in alarm, “I don’t know if I ever want a repeat performance; I’ve never been so worried about a group of people before! Can you imagine if one of them had fallen off their broom? It seemed harmless enough when we were talking about it around the table, but once we actually started the match?” he shuddered dramatically.

The red-haired wizard laughed even harder at the look of horror on his young friend’s face, “Well, maybe you won’t have to live through another faculty game, but I’m quite sure you’ve set yourself up to be the unofficial activities director this year, since both of your ideas were so successful this weekend.”

Draco heaved a great sigh and rolled his eyes theatrically, “Oh, goody.” But he couldn’t help joining in with another bout of Bill’s contagious laughter as they strolled up the sloping lawn, discussing some of the highlights of the match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I don't know about y'all, but I'm having a hard time keeping track of what day it is. My kids are now officially done with school (although my daughter's graduation is scheduled for June 9th) and summer has begun. It doesn't feel any different than it has for the last two months, which is kind of sad. I hope all of you are hanging in there, keeping busy, and staying healthy! Thanks so much for reading and continuing to love these characters as much as I do :) This chapter was fun to write - I can't help but laugh when I envision McGonagall in this scene!


	15. Lifting One's Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry seeks out his friends, and Draco and Hermione look forward to seeing each other again.

The day had finally come that Harry had been dreading; Ginny was heading off with the Harpies for several months of matches, tournaments, and publicity appearances. She’d been training with them all summer, but was still home on the weekends, so the young couple had seen each other weekly, if not more often. To commemorate her last night home, they’d enjoyed a lovely dinner at a quiet Muggle restaurant that had become one of their favorite places over the summer. It afforded them complete anonymity, as opposed to any magical establishment where they were routinely bombarded by nosy journalists and well-meaning admirers.

He knew she’d be back for Christmas, and obviously they would write one another and floo-call whenever possible, and she’d already promised him tickets to a match against the Cannons, which he knew Ron would be joining him for, but still… This was different than last year, when he’d kissed her goodbye on the platform before she’d boarded the train for school. Hogwarts was familiar; he’d known she’d be safe, and busy with classes, and following a daily routine he could relate to. Sending her off like this was unknown and unsettling and he didn’t like it one bit. What if she got hurt? What if she transferred to another team even further away? What if some insanely rich bloke took a fancy to her and started showing up at all her matches, impressing her with expensive gifts and flowery words? He was being ridiculous, he was sure, but that didn’t stop the fear from gnawing at his gut, or the nasty little voice in the back of his head from whispering doubts.

After their romantic dinner, they’d taken a walk through the park and he’d given her a necklace as a “good luck, I’ll miss you, I’m so proud of you, I love you,” gift. A small gold circle hung from a delicate gold chain, and set in the bottom edge of the circle was a single ruby. The colors had, of course, reminded him of their Gryffindor heritage, and the design was similar to that of a Quidditch goal hoop, so he thought it was fitting. She had loved it, and immediately put it on, promising to wear it every day. Her eyes had shone with unshed tears as they said goodbye outside the Burrow, but he’d refused to let his own melancholy dampen her spirits. He’d hugged her a little tighter, and kissed her a little longer before stepping away and reminding her to let him know she’d arrived at the team’s headquarters the next day. After watching her open the door and slip inside, he’d trudged to the apparition point and disappeared with a pop.

The next day was Saturday, and after lying in bed for longer than he deemed truly necessary, he forced himself to get up, eat breakfast, and get changed, determined not to sit around moping all day. Hermione had gone out to run errands, so he decided he’d go see what George and Ron were up to at the joke shop, figuring at the very least, the company of friends would keep him from wallowing. He entered the store to the familiar jingle of the bell above the door, drawing the attention of both redheads as he walked in. They hollered a greeting, which he returned with a wave of his hand as he ambled towards them at shelf they were stocking.

“You alright there, Harry?” Ron asked, noticing the slump of his best friend’s shoulders and the lack of his usual, friendly grin. Even George was watching him with mild concern.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry waved the question away with a half-hearted shrug and a small huff, inwardly chastising himself for being so dramatic. “I’m fine,” he announced firmly, plastering a smile on his face and hoping they bought it. That hope was in vain.

“Lies and fabrications,” came Fred’s drawl from behind the register, the portrait giving the Chosen One his full attention, rubbing his chin with his hand and looking for all the world like a doctor examining his reluctant patient. 

“Definitely seems off,” agreed George, posing in identical fashion as he consulted with his twin, causing Harry to feel like a bug under a microscope.

“Maybe he’s lost the lotto.”

“First he’d have to play.”

“Someone died?”

“I haven’t heard anything.”

“Perhaps he’s ill?”

“Always a possibility.”

“Got the morbs?”

“Now you’re onto something.”

“What’s got you so melancholic on this otherwise lovely day, Harry?” Fred asked pointedly, earning an exasperated sigh from the raven-haired wizard who knew he’d never get out the door without some sort of explanation. He figured the ginger brothers would be as good a sounding board as any, so he forged ahead.

“Sending Ginny off was harder than I thought it would be,” he carded his fingers roughly through his already-messy hair, “I know it sounds mental, but I hate the thought of her being gone for so long, and all over the place.” He shrugged and sighed before finally meeting Ron’s eyes, which he was surprised to find held understanding and not mockery.

“It’s different, yeah?” his best friend offered and Harry nodded and shrugged again, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“She’s not gone forever, though,” George said bracingly, “The Christmas hols are only three months away.”

“I know,” Harry grimaced, “I just worry that when she comes back, after seeing so much of the world, and being surrounded by all sorts of famous, important people…” he trailed off, unsure how to word his greatest fear.

“You’re worried this little corner won’t be enough for her anymore,” Fred’s portrait commented sagely and the raven-haired wizard’s shoulders slumped again in defeat as he scowled at the floor.

Ron and George stared at him, completely dumbfounded, their wide eyes flickering between each other and their dejected friend for several heartbeats before Ron managed a bolstering thought.

“You can’t be serious, Harry,” he strode over so he was right in front of his best friend and clapped a hand on his shoulder, causing bright green eyes to meet clear blue, “For starters, Ginny loves you more than anyone in the entire universe. I used to think she was annoying when she was little and had that dumb crush on you, but the past few years she’s gotten downright nauseating in her constant gushing about you, no offense.” Ron grinned sheepishly and Harry managed a small smirk as the lanky red-head continued, “There’s no question she’s coming back for you and she’d probably be right furious if she knew you doubted her for a split second.” His grip on Harry’s shoulder tightened in emphasis and the other wizard nodded in reluctant agreement with that statement.

George stepped into the same space with his brother and friend, giving Harry a light punch in the arm, “Plus, how could Ginny possibly meet anyone more exciting or famous than you? The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. The Golden Hero of the Wizarding World. The,” but Harry cut him off, chuckling and finally allowing himself to let go of the worries that had weighed him down since the night before.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” he huffed good-naturedly, “I’m an idiot. You’re right, of course you are.” He looked both Weasley’s squarely in the face and nodded firmly, “Thanks, I needed that.” They grinned at him as only the pair of freckled brothers could and invited him to inspect the latest prototype they’d been working on. He followed them to the counter, leaving his insecurities behind.

ooOoo

_Only six more days, love._

_**I know. I can’t wait!**_

_I’ve missed you._

_So much._

_**I’ve missed you, too. I know it hasn’t even been a month yet, but it will be really, really nice to see your face again.**_

_One of the students must use a shampoo similar to yours. I walked through a cloud of apricot-vanilla near the Charms classroom the other day and I automatically looked for you._

_Probably looked like a complete tosser spinning around in the hall, trying to find someone who wasn’t there._

_**Don’t worry. You’re not the only one.**_

**_There’s a bloke in the Department of Magical Games and Sports who has blonde hair. Not quite as light as yours but almost._ **

**** **_Every time I see him across the atrium or in the café, I think it’s you and my heart skips. And then I realize it’s not you, and I have to find a quiet corner to blink away the tears before I get to my_** ** _office._ **

**_I feel ridiculous._ **

_You’re not ridiculous._

_I think it’s sweet that you miss me so much._

_**I r** **eally do.**_

_Well, guess what?_

_**What?**_

_It’s after midnight, so now it’s only five more days._

_**Oh, good Godric. I need to get to bed.**_

**_I have a meeting first thing tomorrow with several members of the House Elf Relocation Office._ **

_I’m sure you’ll be brilliant as always._

_I’ll let you go, then._

_I love you._

_**I love you, too.**_

**_Dream of me?_ **

_Always do._

_**Xoxo**_

Hermione smiled softly as she traced a finger over the words they’d just exchanged. She’d never thought of herself as the sappy, emotional type. Never thought she’d get teary-eyed or wistful over a boy. Apparently, she just hadn’t met the right boy to trigger all those flowery, romantic notions, and now that she had, she was in the middle of a crash course on how to manage her sporadic feelings while tackling a brand new job. Most days she was busy enough to keep the floods at bay, but every once in a while she’d be caught off guard by a flash of white-blonde hair, or the scent of a similar cologne, and even though she knew in her rational, logical brain that it wasn’t him, the disappointment that came with confirmation of that still hit her like a thundering Erumpent. Every time she reminded herself this was all still very new, and that it would get better, would get easier with time. She would force herself to focus on the fact that they would see each other soon, and in the meantime, she could still at least “talk” to him via journal each night.

Knowing their next reunion was only five days away now unfurled a ribbon of warmth throughout her whole body, and the smile on her face grew as she pictured his face. She fell asleep with her lips still curved and her mind fixed on her favorite pair of slate-grey eyes and lopsided smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fluffy little filler :) Since Harry is more visible in this story, I want to follow his path a little more and where he is in his relationship with Ginny. Having done the long-distance thing for two years before I married my husband, I can sympathize! I hope this week has started of well for all of you, my wonderful readers. Thanks so much for your continued interest in this story! <3


	16. The Gang's All Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The former housemates converge on the castle for their first Game Night weekend of the new school year.

The first Game Night crept up on Draco much quicker than he’d anticipated, and in the blink of an eye, it was the day before his former housemates and his favorite witch were to descend upon the castle for the weekend. Since the term had started, he’d been so busy with DADA lessons (which Bill had him co-teaching since the second day), Quidditch tryouts (which he oversaw for every house), flying lessons with all the First Years (which was rather like herding cats and had taken a few days to settle into a workable routine), and a random assortment of other responsibilities and activities, that he hadn’t quite noticed how many days had gone by.

Hermione and Dean were, as always, responsible for the game and whatever supplies would be needed for it. The Headmistress had already alerted the house elves to the impending arrival of the Room’s former occupants, so all the linens had been freshened, surfaces dusted, and a thorough cleaning of the dormitory had commenced. Since Draco and Neville both lived in the castle, the task of providing snacks for Saturday’s festivities had fallen to them, and they were more than happy to oblige.

Thursday afternoon, immediately after the last lesson of the day, the two young men walked down to Hogsmeade to gather supplies. The first stop was the Three Broomsticks, where several cases of butterbeer and pumpkin juice were sent up to the castle, as well as a dozen bottles each of mead and firewhiskey. Neville raised a brow at the vast array and Draco shrugged it off saying they’d eventually use it all up, since they’d be meeting every month.

Honeydukes was of course, imperative, and armloads of sweets were purchased, including (but not limited to) fudge flies, strawberry squids, every-flavor beans, sugar quills, rainbow nougats, and a new addition to the sweet shop’s line-up called clotted caramels. The soft squares of rich caramel were filled with cream that positively oozed out if one tried to bite into it, instead of eating it whole, and Neville thought they’d be a hit with their friends.

The last necessary stop was to the new bakery, Sweet Spells that had opened during the summer and boasted an amazing variety of traditional baked goods found in both the Muggle and magical world. Draco had to reign in his love for all things confectionary, and settled on several dozen biscuits in a wide range of flavors, and a large marble cake that he asked the shop owner to write the words “Game Night” on.

Boxes in hand, the wizards popped into Gladrags to see if Daphne was around, which she was, and very excited to see them to boot. She exclaimed over their purchases, and showed them her latest design, which was almost finished and hanging on a dress form that would soon be placed in the front window. She hugged them both and promised to see them as soon as she got off work the next evening before hurrying off to help a customer.

During the walk back up to the school, the question was raised as to where they should keep everything, since the snacks weren’t needed until Saturday evening, even though everyone was arriving Friday night.

“I was thinking about just putting it all in my old room,” Draco said, “Since I have my new quarters now.”

“Oh,” Neville’s brow furrowed, “You weren’t planning on staying in the dorm with everyone?”

The tall blonde considered this for a moment, “Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. Are you?”

“Well, yeah,” Neville replied, as if this was the obvious choice, “I know I’ve got my own apartment, but I thought it would be more fun to stay with everyone else. Be more like last year, yeah?”

Draco nodded thoughtfully. While on the one hand it seemed kind of silly to stay in his old room when all his belongings were in his staff chambers, it would be nice to be with everyone the whole time, and not have to leave each night when it was time to turn in. Plus, he’d get to be much closer to Hermione. He chided himself for not thinking of it earlier.

“You’re right. It will be better to stay with everyone. So then why don’t we use my rooms to keep the snacks? We can just go grab them at some point Saturday afternoon.”

Neville grinned at him, “Brilliant. I can’t wait to see everyone. D’you know what game we’ll be playing?” Though Draco did not know, they speculated the possibilities as they continued their trek back up to the ancient school.

ooOoo

As quickly as time had seemed to pass thus far in the first month, Friday dragged slower than a dead Flobberworm. Every time Draco looked at his watch, he felt like groaning as it told him only minutes had passed since he’d previously checked. His final lesson of the day was a class of Second Years who were typically chatty and prone to excitement, but on this day were particularly squirrely and boisterous. It was only after Bill threatened to give them a three-foot essay on Hinkypunks for their weekend homework that they finally settled down. As Draco wove his way between the youngsters, checking their progress on the current assignment, he came upon Christopher who paused his writing to grin up at his mentor.

“What’s happening later?” the young Hufflepuff asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“What do you mean?” Draco cocked his head, bemused.

“You keep checking your watch,” Christopher chortled, “So obviously something’s happening.”

Draco rolled his eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh, feeling the sandy-haired boy was too observant for his own good, “The Eighth Years are all getting together this weekend. It’s our first Game Night of the year, and everyone’s arriving this evening.”

As he spoke, Christopher’s eyes had widened, as had his smile, “I’m guessing that means your girlfriend, too?”

“Yes, Hermione will be here,” he couldn’t help the answering grin that spread across his own face.

“Well, that makes sense, then,” Christopher nodded firmly, as if he’d just solved an important mystery.

Draco patted him on the shoulder and looked pointedly at the half-finished page of notes, earning himself a small huff and a shake of his head from the younger wizard, though he went back to work at once.

The rest of the lesson went on in similar, quiet, unhurried fashion, and by the time Bill dismissed the students, Draco was positively itching to get out the door. He forced himself to listen as Bill gave his typical, short run-down of what they’d accomplished with the class, and what they’d need to focus on next time. At the end, a teasing glint flashed in his blue eyes as he observed his assistant, who had done a stellar job of remaining focused even though his brain was clearly somewhere else.

“Have fun with your housemates tonight,” he smirked, “I’m sure it will be an amazing time. Fleur and I might pop in at some point over the weekend, if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” Draco insisted, “We don’t have anything planned specifically for tonight or tomorrow during the day, but the game will start after dinner, as usual, and you’re welcome to join us anytime.”

“Thanks,” Bill nodded and smiled, “Now get out of here,” he jerked his chin towards the door and gave a low chuckle as the normally-unruffled wizard flashed him a cheeky grin and just about sprinted to the hall.

ooOoo

After racing back to his suite to grab whatever clothes and necessary items he’d need for the weekend, Draco arrived outside the door to the Room only mildly winded. He took a moment to compose himself before pulling the door open and stepping inside the familiar space. He hadn’t been back to the Eighth Year’s former dormitory since returning to the castle, and it felt like coming home. The fire was roaring in the hearth, and he was immediately met with the sound of friendly chatter and the rustling of unpacking. A quick survey of the chambers showed him that Neville had beat him up there, and that Daphne and Hannah were already there, as well. By the time he’d dumped his belongings on his old bed, Theo and Luna had also arrived.

“Draco!” Luna greeted him warmly with a hug and an inquisitive once-over that left him wondering if he’d buttoned his shirt wrong, or smudged ink on his face, but before he could ask why she was staring, she beamed at him and said, “You’re looking well. Being back here obviously suits you.” With that, she gently patted his cheek and floated away to find her other friends.

“Good to see you, mate,” Theo held out his hand which Draco shook firmly, grinning at his long-time friend. They’d only seen each other once during the summer, and just for a few hours over lunch at the Manor while Theo had been in town to deal with some estate business. A few owls had been exchanged, but there’s nothing like being face-to-face with the people one is closest to.

“You, too,” Draco agreed wholeheartedly, “How’ve you been?”

“Good, really good,” Theo nodded as they walked towards his room so he could drop off his bag and cloak, “We just got back from a two-week stint on the Margate coast. Xeno sent us to interview a clan of Merpeople there.”

“Sounds exciting,” Draco offered with a grin, knowing that Luna’s eccentric father had taken some getting used to for his fellow former-snake, but that the time spent in the company of the atypical family seemed to have done nothing but good for Theo.

“It really was,” the lanky brunette nodded earnestly, “He’s basically handed the journalistic portion of the paper off to Luna and me, except his current running column about migration patterns, and prints pretty much whatever we come up with.” He paused for a second and seemed to consider how that might have sounded, and quickly amended it, “I mean, we check our facts, and we write multiple drafts and do all the proper editing. It’s not just random bits or what have you.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” Draco said encouragingly, “You wrote the article last month about the Ashwinders, didn’t you? And the one about the Fwoopers over the summer? Those were both excellent. You seem to enjoy it.”

Again, Theo nodded as the pair flopped down onto one of the over-stuff couches in front of the fireplace, “Surprisingly enough, I really do. I’ve always found creatures to be fascinating, and writing is an…an outlet of sorts for me, even if it’s not anything deep or earth-shattering.” He shrugged and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched Luna flit from one room to the next, and then over to welcome Padma, who’d just arrived. A slightly serious look crossed his face and he leaned towards Draco, clearly not wanting to be overheard.

“Remember how I met with my solicitor over the summer?” Draco nodded. “I asked him to sell off whatever properties still belonged to me, aside from the Manor, as well as a sizeable collection of antiques and art pieces. He’s currently finishing up the paperwork for it all, but when it’s done, I’ll be investing a large sum in the _Quibbler._ Luna doesn’t know yet, and I want to keep it that way. I haven’t decided if I want it to be an anonymous gift or not.”

Draco was more than a little surprised by this announcement, but he could understand why Theo would do such a thing. For probably the first time in his life, the handsome Pureblood was part of a family who accepted him unconditionally, and who valued what he brought to the table in terms of his talents and abilities, not his status or wealth. Draco had seen the way Luna’s father had interacted with his friend at the commencement exercises in June, and knew such warmth and fatherly affection was entirely foreign to him. It was no wonder Theo had chosen to stick close to them upon leaving Hogwarts, and investing in Xenophilius’ paper was his way of thanking them, much the same way Draco’s pursuit of restoring the Granger’s memories had been his way of thanking Hermione.

He met Theo’s gaze steadily, “I think that’s fantastic, mate. Though I will say, if you choose to do it anonymously, there’s a very good chance Luna will figure it out anyway. She just seems to know stuff, yeah?” The two wizards chuckled, acknowledging the truth of those words as they surveyed the space around them once more. At that moment, the door opened again, bringing Dean and Anthony into their midst. The young Ministry employees had arrived together, straight from the office if their work robes were any indication. Draco and Theo made their way over to greet the new arrivals, though Draco couldn’t entirely squash the disappointment settling like a stone in his gut over the fact that his girlfriend was now the only one of their group not present.

“Hermione’s talking to McGonagall,” Dean tossed out, having noticed the strained look on the tall blonde’s face, “Floo’d in with Anthony and me from work, but you know she couldn’t just give a polite greeting and leave.” He snorted and rolled his eyes, “I heard her mention ‘legislation’ before I even reached the door.”

Draco let out an exasperated huff. Of course the Brightest Witch of the Age would have to fill her favorite professor in on her new job as soon as she arrived, even though he was quite sure Hermione had written to McGonagall as soon as the position had been offered to her. Before he could get too annoyed, however, the door opened a final time and the curly-haired focus of his musings appeared.

“Hi everyone!” she called out cheerfully before finding herself completely engulfed in a strong set of familiar arms. She squeezed him tightly before pulling back and placing a quick kiss on his lips, reveling in the warmth of his gaze.

“Hello,” she said in a lower, much quieter tone.

“Hello,” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Alright you two, there’s others here that want a greeting, too, y’know,” Neville groused, but his grin belied any real irritation. The couple broke apart and Hermione immediately flung her arms around her fellow former-Gryffindor.   
  
“How are you Neville?” she asked as she beamed up at him.

“Excellent,” he grinned, “Tell you all about Greenhouse 4 at dinner,” he wiggled his eyebrows and she giggled and nodded in agreement to the plan.

“Hermione!” an excited squeal erupted from the girls’ side of the dorm, and all four of the other witches came bustling out of Padma’s room, where they’d been keeping the former-Ravenclaw company as she settled in. Hermione rushed over to greet each of them with hugs and exclamations that were echoed by them in return, causing the pitch and volume of the interaction to rise to such an extent that all five of the wizards standing nearby winced and retreated a few steps.

“Ah, it’s good to be back,” Dean stated with a smirk and a shake of his head, and they all chuckled, knowing he didn’t mind the girls’ antics in the slightest, and completely agreeing with his statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! They're all back together again :) These monthly meet-ups will be another way for us to follow the lives of the other graduates and catch up with what's been going on. I love the idea of them all staying in the Room like "old times" and checking in with their mentees from the previous year. Basically, it's just a big ball of fluffy goodness. Thanks so much for sticking with me! <3


	17. Divide and Conquer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The housemates enjoy reconnecting, and the first official Game Night of the year commences.

The ten former-housemates spent Friday night catching up and sharing news, answering questions about their jobs, and generally just enjoying each other’s company. Draco and Neville saw one another on a daily basis, and visited Daphne at her shop every so often. Dean, Hermione, and Anthony frequently crossed paths at the Ministry, and Theo and Luna clearly spent a great deal of time together, but Padma (who had recently taken a job at the Daily Prophet as a journalist-in-training), and Hannah (who was officially now the co-proprietor of The Leaky Cauldron with her great-uncle, Tom) hadn’t seen anyone from their friend group since leaving school in June. Long after midnight, the witches and wizards were still sprawled on the squashy chairs and couches, and stretched across the carpeted floor in front of the fire, clearly in no hurry to end their reunion.

Hermione was tucked snugly into Draco’s side on one of the sofas, and only after stifling her third yawn did he nudge her and suggest it might be a good idea to turn in.

She nodded sleepily, “You’re right. I’ve been up since even earlier than usual, since I wanted to make sure I had time to finish the research I’d been doing for the House Elf census, and turn in my report on outdated laws regarding Centaurs.”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled affectionately. “I expect to hear all about that report tomorrow over breakfast.” He stood and turned, extending a hand to her, which she happily took. Their movement seemed to spur everyone else into action, and in no time at all, goodnights were hollered and doors were closed.

Draco leaned against the doorframe of Hermione’s room, a lopsided grin blooming across his face as he watched her toss her shoes in the corner and stretch, yawning once more. She ambled back over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest and sighing contentedly at the feel of having him so close again.

“It’s so nice to be back,” she murmured, “And I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, love,” he replied, kissing the top of her curls and returning her embrace, “Looking forward to spending more time together tomorrow.” She hummed in response and simply stayed in his arms. After a few seconds, he felt her relax even further into him, and knew she’d fall asleep standing there if he let her. Chuckling to himself, he shifted slightly, still holding her tightly, but slowly walking her backwards towards her bed. She gave small whine of protest, but looked up at him with sparkling, sleepy eyes and a smile that melted his heart. He leaned in to kiss her, sinking his fingers into her soft curls and wishing he could stay in that moment forever. A tiny voice in the back of his brain whispered that technically, he could. None of their friends would care if they slept in the same room, in fact he was quite sure he’d seen Theo trailing after Luna as their gathering had broken up. But, he had promised himself back at the very beginning that they would take things slow, and that he would adhere to his traditional upbringing. For reasons he couldn’t rightly explain, it was important to him that at least one good, respectable thing came out of his Pureblood ancestry, so he intended to honor his witch in this way, old fashioned as it might seem.

Steeling what little resolve he had, he pulled back, her face cupped in his hands, and bumped her nose gently with his, earning himself a tiny giggle.

“I need to go, as much as I don’t want to,” he whispered in a low voice and felt her shiver in response. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he wrapped his arms around her and inhaled her familiar apricot-vanilla scent.

“I love you,” she breathed into his ear and he almost told his moral fiber to sod off, but she took a step away and gazed unflinchingly at him, her deep chocolate eyes reflecting her spoken sentiment, a small smile tugging at her kissable lips.

“I love you,” he rasped, leaning in for one last peck on her cheek before striding to the door. He glanced over his shoulder to find her sitting on the edge of her bed, a dreamy expression on her face as she watched him go. He winked at her and closed the door quietly behind him.

ooOoo

Dean and Hermione had decided to do something a little different for this first Game Night, and instead of everyone playing the same game, they’d created a bit of a rotation consisting of games they’d played when they were much younger. There was Operation, Mouse Trap, and Hungry, Hungry Hippos. The idea was that their group of ten would be split into smaller teams, and each team would get a chance to play each game, and of course, points would be awarded at the end. A new points chart had been posted on the board by the door, and would remain there throughout the year. In typical Hannah fashion, the former-Hufflepuff had taken more than a few photos on Friday night, and by the time everyone had rolled out of bed and dragged themselves to the breakfast table, several pictures had been pinned to the board as well.

Using their trusty bag of marbles, the party was split as such:

Gold Team – Daphne, Neville, and Anthony

Silver Team – Luna, Draco, Hannah, and Dean

Black Team – Hermione, Theo and Padma

Since Mouse Trap would take the longest to play a full game, the other two games were to be played to elimination, narrowing down the winner with multiple rounds, before everyone would rotate to their next challenge.

Draco and Neville had disappeared right after dinner to retrieve the snacks they’d stored in the Flying Instructor’s quarters, and returned with armloads of goodies and several crates floating in front of them. They shooed everyone away while they set up their buffet of treats, and once satisfied with their impressive display, invited their friends to inspect the variety of offerings. Both wizards grinned smugly at the response, as more than one housemate bemoaned the amount of food they’d eaten just a short while ago.

“You got coconut biscuits?” Padma exclaimed, “I love coconut biscuits!”

“What are these?” Dean asked, picking up a clotted caramel and popping it in his mouth. A split second later, he closed his eyes and chewed slowly, a blissful groan rumbling out.

“Clotted caramel,” offered Neville, “They’re new at Honeydukes.”

“Oh, those are amazing,” Daphne nodded vigorously, “They were giving free samples the day they first displayed them and I ate at least four while I stood there talking to the clerk.” She grinned sheepishly, “I also bought a dozen to bring back, but I did share those with Mrs. Beecham!”

“The cake looks wonderful,” Hermione was eyeing the tall, ganache-covered tower. “What kind is it?”

“Marble,” Draco told her, smirking at her pleased expression. He knew that was one of her favorites, and, as usual, had chosen it for that very reason.

“Alright,” announced Dean, who had finally completed his moment of sugar-induced ecstasy, “Shall we grab plates and go over the rules?” He rubbed his hands together with uninhibited glee, grinning at each of them in turn.

Immediately, nine people stepped forward to do exactly that, and as they chattered excitedly and filled their plates, the door to the Room opened.

“Greetings, you lot!” Bill hollered to the group at large as he and Fleur approached the table. “Good to see everyone!” The married couple made their way to each individual, bestowing hugs and handshakes, words of welcome, and friendly inquiries as they went. Fleur, who was now into her seventh month of pregnancy, looked positively radiant as she nibbled on a raspberry-iced biscuit and engaged Padma in animated conversation. Bill looked exactly the same as he had in June, though his hair was a little longer, and he’d apparently been avoiding a razor in recent days, if the scruff of a beard on his chin was any indication.

“Will you join teams?” Hannah asked the pair, and multiple voices chorused in encouraging the latest arrivals to play along, which they both happily agreed to. Bill joined the Black Team, and Fleur the Gold, and as soon as everyone had sufficiently stocked up on snacks and drinks, they all made their way to the larger portion of the common area, where three of the round tables had been enlarged so that four players could easily fit around each of them.

“We’ll just roll the dice to see who starts where,” Hermione told them, holding out black and white cube from the Mouse Trap game to Anthony who was standing nearby. He rolled a five, and passed it off to Luna, who rolled a three, and lastly Bill took it and rolled a six, giving the Black Team first choice for what they’d like to begin with. Having no idea what any of the games entailed exactly, he deferred to the Muggleborn witch, who chose Hungry, Hungry Hippos, since that had been her favorite game as a small child. The Gold Team chose to start with Operation, since Anthony was fascinated by the cartoon “patient” and all the tiny pieces, leaving the Silver Team to settle in for a game of Mouse Trap.

In no time at all, the familiar sounds of friendly trash-talking, squeals of elation, groans of defeat, and raucous laughter filled the vast space. Though no one needed to say it outright, they all would have readily agreed that it seemed as if the months had not passed at all, and they were just continuing on as usual. After roughly thirty minutes of boisterous competition, victors were crowned at each table: Hermione had won at Hippos, unsurprisingly, Fleur had been the champion of Operation, and Draco had won at Mouse Trap. The teams rotated so each would begin a new game, and once again, the volume reached deafening heights as hilarity ensued. A previously-unseen aggressive streak showed up in Luna as she smashed the lever with lightning speed on her neon-pink hippo, and Theo took it as a personal offense every time the “patient’s” nose beeped at him. Daphne kept wanting to stop the marble in an attempt to figure out how all the pieces worked together, while Anthony engaged Dean in a discussion across the Room about who Rube Goldberg was.

At the end of Round Two, Padma, Neville, and Luna had each earned themselves a spot in the winner’s circle, and a break was taken to refill plates and stretch a bit. As they did, Bill checked in with his former students’ plans for their last day at the castle.

“Have you all seen your First Years?” he asked, glancing around and Neville answered for all of them.

“We invited all of them here tomorrow for lunch, to catch up and spend some time together for the afternoon. Then, the ten of us have planned to go down to the Three Broomsticks for a late dinner before everyone head’s off.” Everyone nodded in agreement with his summary, and Bill looked very pleased with their schedule for the following day.

“That’s fantastic. I know they’re all excited to see you. Well, most of you,” he smirked at Draco and Neville, “They see some of you on the regular as it is.” They all laughed as each team made their way to their third and final game of the night.

“Do you see Olivia and Christopher often?” Hannah asked Draco as they sat down at Operation.

“Yes, actually,” the tall blonde nodded. “We have a standing appointment every Wednesday for lunch, and both of them typically stick around after their Defense class is over to chat. Christopher has popped by my quarters a couple of times, as well, as has Andrew.”

“That’s wonderful,” she smiled brightly, “I wish I could see my two more often, but we do owl regularly. At least once a week. I’m looking forward to catching up in person tomorrow.”

“Me too,” nodded Luna and Dean echoed her sentiment. All ten of the recently-graduated friends had taken their role as mentor very seriously the previous year, and had established solid relationships with their younger counterparts. The connections hadn’t wavered in their months apart, for which the older witches and wizards were very thankful, and they were quite sure the now-Second Years felt the same.

Their thoughtful musings were cut short when Hermione hollered for everyone to get ready, and gave the countdown. This last match was no less noisy or frantic, with Daphne positively shrieking at the hippos, Bill trying to figure out the best path of survival for his mouse, and Draco putting a whole new vocabulary of expletives on display each time the tweezers hit the metal edge and caused him to jump. Dean and Hannah were laughing so hard, tears were coursing down their cheeks, and Luna kept saying the “patient” probably had a horrible case of wrackspurts based on the expression on his face. At the end of it all, Neville, Hannah, and Theo (much to his smug relief) emerged the champions at their respective tables. It was decided that the top three Hungry, Hungry Hippo players should have a final battle, so Luna, Neville, and Hermione sat down to battle for one extra point and the glory of besting the other winners.

Hermione felt pretty confident, seeing as she’d won all three of the rounds with her original team fairly easily. However, neither she nor Neville were prepared for the level of ferocity their normally-serene friend unleashed on them. Neville was so taken-aback, he sat there stunned for a handful of detrimental seconds, causing him to lose spectacularly, only having collected three marbles by the time he focused on the actual game. Luna smiled sweetly as he bowed out, all remnants of the screaming, almost-violent banshee she’d turned into completely gone, causing both he and Hermione to shake their heads and shoot wide-eyed gazes to their friends, who were all equally stunned and entertained. The petite brunette shifted so she was sitting directly across from the ethereal blonde, and offered a genial smile as they put the marbles back in the tray. Luna returned the smile, but as soon as Dean started the countdown, her stare hardened and her jaw clenched as she dropped her eyes to the game and positioned her hand over the plastic lever.

This time around, Hermione braced herself for the onslaught of high-pitched sound that was sure to come, but her opponent remained silent. Against her competitive, hyper-focused will, her eyes darted up to puzzle out what Luna was doing. The former-Ravenclaw was slamming the lever incredibly fast, and her face was a mask of fierce concentration, but not a peep escaped her lips, which were clamped tightly shut. Hermione’s moment of observation was apparently what Luna had been counting on, and was enough to cost her the game. When she refocused on the red tray, she could immediately tell that less than half the marbles remained, meaning Luna had more than enough to win already. Internally chastising herself for getting distracted, she put in a good effort for the last little bit, but there would be no coming back.

“Luna wins!” Theo crowed as the final marble disappeared into the lime green hippo’s mouth. He swooped in and planted a loud kiss on her cheek, which was flushed from exertion, and she let out a breath in an audible “whoosh,” while sinking back in her seat.

“Wow, this is a really intense game, Hermione,” Luna smiled in her typical airy fashion, leaving her opponent to goggle at her.

“Yes, I guess it can be,” Hermione finished lamely, chuckling as she stood and extended her hand in a show of good sportsmanship. Luna took it and shook it once before twirling around and asking if there was still cake left as she floated towards the snack table.

“Well, that was unexpected,” a low voice rumbled in her ear and Hermione couldn’t help the tiny shiver that ran up her spine. She grinned and leaned back against Draco’s broad chest as he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Most definitely,” she agreed and snorted mildly, “I think all-in-all it was a success. Everyone seemed to like the games, even though they’re really designed for younger children.”

“Ah, it’s fun to be a little immature every now and then, right?” he murmured in her ear and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Yes, though I wouldn’t exactly call your vocabulary on the last round “child friendly,” she laughed and turned in his arms, poking him in the side and earning herself a startled yelp. He scowled in mock-annoyance, remembering his inability to get even a single piece out of the Operation board and only grunted in response.

“What exactly does “buggering beef curtains” mean?” she asked innocently, a teasing glint in her eye and was rewarded by her boyfriend’s cheeks flushing red.

“Nothing a lady should ever say,” he admitted sheepishly, “It’s unfortunately one of the latest phrases being employed by the Fifth Year boys, and it’s rather….catchy.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled out at his mortified expression, “Oh really? Should I fetch the soap to wash your mouth out? Or should you be made to write lines?”

His grey eyes flashed and he arched a pale brow, doing his best to look intimidating, “Are you doling out punishments then?”

She met his gaze head on, her chocolate orbs still sparkling, “Well, someone needs to keep you in line.” She popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly, lingering just long enough for him to lose his train of thought, before ducking under his arms and sauntering off to help clean up the games. He blinked several times to clear the fog she’d left him in and growled to himself while grinning at the same time. The longer they were together, the clearer it became that he had met his match with her, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hungry, Hungry Hippos was one of my absolute favorite games as a child, so I was determined it should make an appearance at some point (tah-dah!). I couldn't shake the image of a competitively unhinged Luna playing, so there you have it. Thanks so much for reading and continuing this journey with me. I hope everyone's Monday was kind to them, and that you're staying safe and healthy! <3


	18. Sunday Funday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The housemates spend time with their former First Years, share a last meal together, and Draco and Hermione get a moment to themselves.

After two late nights, it seemed everyone had the same idea and no one rolled out of bed until hours later than usual. Hannah was the first to exit her room and was startled by the appearance of a house elf standing next to the long, empty table.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely.

“Yes, Miss,” the tiny creature bobbed his head, “We in the kitchens was wondering if breakfast was needed, since no ones come to the table yet.” He cocked his head as he waited for instructions.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” Hannah chuckled lightly. “We’ve all had a bit of a lie-in.” She paused to consider the schedule for the day ahead, “Could we just maybe have toast and scones? We’re having that big luncheon with our First Years, so I doubt anyone will need much beforehand.”

“Of course, Miss. We is happy to. Tea and coffee, too?” the elf inquired.

“Yes, please. I think we’ll all need quite a bit of coffee,” she admitted as a wide yawn escaped her and she grinned at her unexpected guest.

“Right away, Miss,” he bowed and left with a sharp _CRACK_ that made her jump, even though she’d been expecting it. She wondered if she should wake everyone else up, now that breakfast was arriving shortly, but before she could decide on a plan of action, Anthony’s door opened across the way and he came ambling out, clearly having just woken.

“Morning,” he mumbled and waved lazily as he headed towards the boys’ bath.

She returned the greeting and immediately heard a door behind her open as well, and Hermione stepped out looking no more awake than Hannah felt at the moment.

“Hello,” she greeted and stopped to take in the slightly odd sight of Hannah just standing there, a few feet from the table. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Hannah blinked a few times, still in a bit of a haze, “A kitchen elf was just up to ask if we wanted breakfast, since it was later than usual.” She shrugged and walked towards her friend and the two started towards the girls’ bath as Hannah explained what she’d told him, and Hermione whole-heartedly agreed that coffee was essential.

In short succession, the rest of the inhabitants of the Room appeared one by one, all in ample states of drowsy, heavy-eyed lethargy, but all in good spirits that were further picked up after several helpings of caffeine and freshly-baked goods slathered in butter and jam. Knowing their young visitors would be arriving in less than two hours, a slow parade of people going in and out of their rooms, in and out of the baths, and flopping back down to continue previous conversations commenced. At precisely one o’clock, a knock was heard on the large, oaken doors, and Daphne hurried over to open it as the rest of the clan followed to welcome their friends.

All twenty-two of them had arrived together, barreling over the threshold like a miniature stampede. If any of the adults (though they still had difficulty considering themselves as such) had been less-than fully alert prior to this moment, they were immediately jolted into complete lucidity by the gleeful shouts, excited squeals, and rib-crushing hugs that accompanied the reunion taking place. Wide grins were sported all around, and even a few happy tears were shed (though Theo would emphatically deny it) and as the dust finally settled, they stood in a jumbled group with many arms flung around shoulders, and hands clasped together.

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Hannah demanded pictures be taken, and they all dutifully shuffled around to accommodate their resident photographer. A whole-group shot, followed by sets of each mentor and his/her young charges occurred, and it was then that Hermione noticed that Malcolm, who had been several inches shorter than her back in June, was now exactly the same height, their shoulders meeting as they posed for their photo.

“You’ve grown quite a bit,” she nudged him with her elbow and he grinned in response. The sandy-haired Gryffindor was so much more jovial and agreeable now than he had been upon their first meeting a year ago. While she was proud of all three of her young friends, the change of heart the boy beside her had undergone was something she knew she’d always treasure.

“Yup! Pretty soon I’ll be way taller than you,” he teased and she rolled her eyes, knowing that wasn’t a very difficult feat to achieve.

Once Hannah was satisfied that everyone had been properly preserved on magical film, they all made their way to the not one, but two long tables that were now waiting for them, heavily laden with food. Everyone settled in and conversation flowed effortlessly. Allison, whose letters were usually several pages long and included news on anything and everything, filled Hermione in on all the events of the past week, talking a mile a minute, with regular interjections from Darla, whose letters were just as lengthy. Malcolm, whose missives were nowhere near as verbose, told the older witch about his classes, his possible interest in a Second Year Ravenclaw, and his disappointment over not making his house Quidditch team.

“They only needed three spots, really, since we knew both Beaters, the Seeker, and a Chaser would be staying on. The new Keeper was their reserve last year, so the only new players were the two other Chasers,” he nodded towards the end of the table as he said this, where Olivia and Andrew were sitting with Draco and Neville. “But the captain told me he might need me as a reserve in the spring,” Malcolm perked up at his admission and Hermione responded enthusiastically.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you!” she flung her arm around him and gave a small squeal, causing his cheeks to flush, but he sat straighter and puffed his chest out a bit after she let go.

Their luncheon stretched on for over an hour, and then it was decided that games were in order. Dean had prepared for such a scenario, and once the extra table disappeared, and the small round ones were set back in place, he gathered the group to explain his master plan.

“Going with a theme of card games today,” he grinned at the assembled bunch before him, “We’ll split into eight teams of four but you can’t be on a team with anyone from your mentor group, and only two teams can have two mentors. Go!” Everyone scrambled to a table, and after a few regroupings, they met the requirements and their game director continued. “On each table is a different, Muggle card game. Since some of them can go on for much longer than others, we’re going to have a time limit.” He waved his wand and a plastic kitchen timer appeared in his hand. “I’m going to let my housemates go over the rules with their groups first, since they know how to play all of these, and then I’ll set it for thirty minutes. We won’t get through all the rotations today, but we’ll continue next month.”

The low buzz of talk filled the vast space at once, with each newly-formed team learning the ins and outs of the game set out in front of them. Uno, Go Fish, Old Maid, Phase Ten, Skip-Bo, and Dutch Blitz each had their own specific deck, and two regular decks of playing cards were accompanied by instructions for Crazy Eights and Spoons. For the next few hours, everyone was thoroughly engaged in friendly competition as the mish-moshed teams enjoyed getting to know one another better, as well as learning to play several new games. Hermione had a chance to interact with Andrew, Luna’s quiet friend Yasmine, and Rory, who had been one of Theo’s charges. She couldn’t help chuckling to herself as she spotted Malcolm across the room, sitting with Dean, Hannah, and the pretty little Ravenclaw he’d mentioned earlier, and was not the least bit surprised that Darla had made a beeline for Draco’s table as soon as they’d been told to assemble. Emmeline was also at that table, as well as Aiden, who was valiantly trying to get Darla’s attention, but to no avail as her dreamy gaze rarely left the pale blonde’s face.

Finally, as the sky outside the tall, mullioned windows started to darken, the timer rang out one last time, and Dean called an end to the fun. Good natured protests floated about the Room, but everyone stood up and set about gathering whatever belongings they might have left lying around, clearing up the games, and saying their goodbyes. Many hugs were given and renewed promises to write were exchanged as the Second Years trickled out the door, leaving their mentors grinning and sighing with more than a little tiredness.

“Why do I suddenly feel old?” complained Theo, dragging a hand over his handsome face.

“I know,” agreed Padma, “I’m exhausted, and all we did was play cards!”

“I think it’s the constant barrage of questions and random topic changes,” Anthony mused, “My brain’s not used to that anymore.”

Neville and Draco exchanged a look and burst into laughter, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes at their housemates.

“What?” demanded Daphne, who had been yawning widely.

“You’re out of school for three months and you all act like you’re feeble and decrepit,” Draco snorted.

“It’s not our fault we’ve adjusted to adult life,” Dean sniffed with mock indignation, “Most of us are just used to quieter, more subdued environments now.”

“Oh, yes, because Magical Games and Sports is all boring meetings and silent projects,” Neville joined in the teasing and Dean grinned in response.

“Whatever it is, I definitely feel like I could take a nap, but I’m getting rather hungry,” Hermione admitted.

“We do need to be heading to the Three Broomsticks soon, since our floo appointments start at nine o’clock,” Hannah reminded everyone.

Having been reminded of the plans they’d previously agreed to, everyone took a few minutes to pack their weekend bags and make sure the chambers, baths, and common area were free of personal effects before donning cloaks and heading out the doors and down to the local village for dinner. It was only late September, but already there was a chill in the air, and the crisp smell of leaves met them as they walked down the path towards Hogsmeade. As they reached the high street, Hermione saw the sign for Daphne’s store across the way.

“Daphne, we never got to see your shop, or your flat, or anything,” she said with dismay.

“Oh, Merlin, I completely forgot about bringing you lot down,” the pretty blonde admitted, “Once I got settled in, I didn’t think once about leaving.” She shrugged and cocked her head towards Gladrags, “I can show you one of my designs, though. It’s in the window.”

Immediately, the group changed tack and bustled across the street, stopping in front of the large bay window, lit by a lamppost right outside. A lovely, sapphire blue set of robes draped elegantly over a dress form, accompanied by a matching hat, gloves, and a jewel-toned embroidered hand-bag, all of which were set out on a delicate table and chair to the side of the impressive outfit.

The friends ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ for several moments, appreciating Daphne’s talent as a seamstress, as well as the aesthetically pleasing display she’d put together. The girls asked several questions that the boys couldn’t even begin to feign interest in, or understanding of, and as their supportive and excited chatter continued, the witches were gently steered in the direction of their destination for the evening. Upon entering the doors of the Three Broomsticks, they were greeted with a blast of warm air, the delicious smell of roast meat and baked pies, and the friendly welcome of Madam Rosmerta and several patrons. She led them to the back room they had used the last time, though their group was much smaller now. The cozy parlor had a roaring fire in the grate, and the long table had already been laid for ten.

As supper was consumed, the topic of conversation shifted to their next Game Night, which would be held the third weekend of October.

“It’s more than a week before Halloween, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do a bit of a theme,” suggested Padma and her idea was well-received.

“Decorations?” asked Hannah, while at the same time Dean inquired about costumes.

“Maybe just something simple,” offered Hermione, knowing that everyone might not have time to go all-out now that most of them had full-time jobs and other responsibilities.

“Let’s limit costumes to something you wear on your head, or put on your face,” Daphne suggested, “That way no one has to worry about a whole get-up.”

“Maybe each person could bring one thing to help with decorations, and we could put them up that Friday when we all get here?” Anthony offered. Both new ideas were met with positive responses, and Padma said she’d sent owls with each person’s item the week beforehand.

As plates were cleared away, Dean voiced a thought everyone was having, but no one wanted to say, “Well, I suppose we need to head back up to the castle. Our floo times start in less than thirty minutes. Resigned sighs filled the air as they all stood and grabbed their cloaks, making sure to leave sizable tips for Madam Rosmerta before heading back out into the brisk, Autumn evening.

As they walked, Draco wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders, “Would you like to see my new apartment before you go?” Her beaming smile immediately answered as she nodded happily. Her time-slot wasn’t for quite a while, so they had more than enough time to grab their things from the Room and say a proper goodbye to everyone, and still had over an hour to spend together. Their fingers automatically intertwined as they strolled down the corridor towards Draco’s rooms, enjoying a bit of time to themselves and feeling like they were back in Eighth Year, heading to class. When they reached his door, he opened it with a flourish and bowed her in, which earned him a giggle and a kiss on the cheek as she passed through.

“Oh, Draco, this is fantastic!” Hermione exclaimed as she took in the cozy sitting area and glorified breakfast nook. Immediately, the bookshelves drew her attention and she stepped closer to inspect the items housed there. The display of Game Night odds and ends made her laugh, and the photographs displayed on the mantle brought a smile to her face that lit up the room. He gestured for her to check out his bedroom, which she did with equal enthusiasm.

“You’ve really made it yours,” she commented, looking at the lesson plans and notes spread out all over his desk, which he’d enlarged _again_ in an attempt to fit everything while he was working. On the bulletin board above it, he’d recently added a two pictures Dennis had taken during the weeks of Quidditch tryouts; one of him with Olivia and Andrew after they made the Gryffindor team, the wide grins on their faces clearly displaying their happy triumph, and another of him in action during a drill. He was standing on the pitch in a new set of coach’s robes, tracking the flyers in the air with serious concentration for a second before blowing his whistle and waving for them to come down. His hair was slightly windblown, and with one hand in his pocket he made it all look effortless, and Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off it. She watched the loop play out a few times before turning to her boyfriend.

“Can I have a copy of this?” she asked almost shyly, and he noticed her cheeks were a bit pink.

“You can have that one, if you want,” he offered, “I don’t really need a picture of myself.” Her eyes lit up and she eagerly reached to take it off the board as he continued. “Like what you see?” he teased.

She gazed up at him through her lashes, her cheeks now fully flushed, “You just look very….very professional.” She looked at the moving image one last time before placing it carefully in her bag, then looked him squarely in the eye, “And I always like what I see when it comes to you.” Her chocolate eyes sparkled as they trailed down the length of the handsome wizard and back up again, a smirk tugging the corner of her mouth as she found his own cheeks slightly pink now.

As if an unspoken signal had been given, they stepped towards each other. Their lips met, and their hands found purchase, and the world around them disappeared for a time. When Draco eventually pulled back, cupping her face in his palms, they were both breathless and dark-eyed.

“I have something for you,” he rumbled, placing another soft kiss on her lips.

“You do?” she mumbled, her eyes still half-closed.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, forcing himself to step away and turn to his dresser, where he picked up two square boxes she’d not even noticed. Holding them both in one hand, he took hold of her with his other and gently led her to the window seat. Once settled and facing her, he held the gifts out to her with a lopsided smile and a slight shrug.

“Your birthday was last week, and while I could have just owled them to you on the nineteenth, I really wanted to give them to you in person,” he explained.

“You sent me flowers and that whole hamper of sweets! You didn’t have to get me anything else,” she started to protest, but he placed a finger on her lips, cutting her off and smirking.

“Don’t even start. Those were just little fun things to let you know I was thinking about you. And I absolutely did need to get you not one, but two things, as per our previous agreement back on my birthday,” he reminded her and she rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her excited anticipation. “Open this one first,” he held the smaller of the two out to her.

Hermione took the box and admired the pale blue paper, covered with tiny white flowers and swirls, and tied with a narrow, silver ribbon. She carefully peeled the tape away from one end, and slid the paper off, revealing a decorative wooden box with a heart carved on the top. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, and the lid opened on a hinge. Upon lifting it up, she found a delicate bracelet nestled in a cushion of pale blue silk. She picked it up and saw that it was two strands of precious metal, one of silver and one of gold, twisted together to make one cord. At the clasp, there were two tiny heart charms, again, one silver and one gold that made a light tinkling sound as they swayed against each other.

“How beautiful,” she whispered, admiring the way the light reflected off the shiny surface.

“May I?” Draco asked, reaching out to take hold of the piece of jewelry, which she willingly gave him and watched through slightly blurry eyes as he carefully turned her wrist and secured the clasp, then took her hand between his own and looked up to meet her gaze. His pewter stare was soft and warm as he explained his thoughts, “I thought it made a nice representation of us, silver and gold, yeah?” She nodded and sniffed, and he chuckled and kissed her once before letting go and turning his attention to the second, larger box on the seat beside him.

“Now this one,” he presented it to her, and immediately she noticed it was much heavier than the previous one, and about three times as big. Wrapped in the same pretty paper, a sturdy, white box came into view as she peeled it away. Taking the top off, she found what appeared to be a snow globe sitting inside. Carefully lifting it up, she brought it to eye level and found the scene inside to be a familiar one; a dark grey, three-storied building with stone front steps sat within the crystal sphere, and on those steps a miniature couple was depicted. The girl had a halo of wild brown curls, the boy a head of white-blonde locks, their faces were met in a kiss as the fake snow fell around them.

“It’s us,” Draco said with nervous excitement in his voice, “At Grimmauld on New Year’s.” He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to fully convey all that night had meant to him. It wasn’t their first kiss, but it was the one that changed everything for him and brought about the realization that the amazing witch in front of him was all he wanted from that moment forward. He thought she understood, as she looked at him with blissful adoration, a few tears escaping down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb and continued, “It’s not just a snow globe, though.” He tapped it with his wand to activate the charm he’d placed on it and it immediately glowed a silvery, iridescent blue. “Every time it glows, you’ll know I’m thinking of you,” he watched her face anxiously, hoping he’d not done something juvenile or silly, but his fears were allayed at once as she let out a small sob and leaned in to press her lips to his, her free hand winding up to rest at the base of his neck. After showering him with numerous kisses, she leaned back and studied him, shaking her head as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“You constantly amaze me, you know that?” she chuckled, wiping the last of her tears, “This is just the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” She peered into the glowing orb again, this time noticing the number “12” on the front door, and the tiny string of lights around the rooftop entrance where’d they’d danced a short while after that kiss. “I’m putting this on my desk at work,” she decided firmly and kissed him one more time before placing it carefully back in its box.

“That’s what I was thinking when I came up with it,” he admitted, a smug grin gracing his features. He glanced down at his watch and saw that they had just about fifteen minutes before Hermione had to be in McGonagall’s office. Meeting her eyes once more, he ran his fingers through her curls and peppered kisses along her jaw, earning himself a breathy sigh as she melted into his touch, and he set about sending her off with a thorough goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo! I'm sorry; this is the second time I've posted later than my regularly scheduled time. This week was my daughter's graduation, and we decided to throw a little "home prom" for her and her friends, so it's been a bit nutty! But now it's all done and I can get back to my previous routine :) I love getting the now-Second Years back together with their mentors, and I was itching for Draco and Hermione to have a quiet moment for just the two of them. Hope this week has treated all of you well - thank you so much for continuing to read and comment and keep me company on this winding road! <3


	19. Ministry Employee #2806

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's new job challenges her to get a little more creative than usual.

Hermione loved her job. From the very first day, she had thrown herself in with complete abandon and she was thriving in her new element. Gethsemane Prickle was her immediate supervisor, although she did also report to an Undersecretary in the Wizengamot by the name of Bernard Rhysand. Whenever she had a question about or needed clarification on existing legislation, she would add it to her constantly-growing list, which she brought with her to their weekly meeting every Thursday afternoon. He was a soft-spoken, middle-aged wizard who reminded her a bit of Remus Lupin in his temperament, and possessed an abundance of knowledge in the realm of Magical Law. Both of her bosses (for that is how she thought of them) were encouraging and supportive of her endeavors, as well as extremely patient with her insatiable need to know and understand the innermost workings of the Wizarding World and the wide variety of species that coexisted within it.

Taking Harry’s advice to heart, she had decided to dedicate the majority of her time to learning everything she could about the existing laws and policies regarding the creatures and beings she was most concerned with. While she truly wanted to make a positive impact in the lives of all magical entities, she knew she had to start somewhere, and House Elves had always been a particular point of conjecture for her, so she dedicated herself to their cause from the outset.

She’d been given an office on Level Four, down the hall from Gethsemane, and not too far from the lifts. While she knew all the offices in the underground building had charmed windows, she greatly appreciated having the illusion of the outdoors, instead of being stuck in a cubicle in a central area where the only view was that of half-height partitions and solid color walls. Her workspace was about the size of her bedroom back at Grimmauld, and comfortably held a sizeable desk, two armchairs for visitors, an entire wall of bookshelves across from her desk, and a lovely credenza behind her. She’d made the space her own by placing matching lamps on each end of the long, low cabinet, and displaying multiple picture frames and knick-knacks in between. A large photo of her with her parents, taken on the beach just before she’d returned to Britain stood at one end, and an equal-sized one of the group of Eighth Years mirrored it at the other. There were several slightly smaller photos of her and Draco, as well as one of her with Harry and Ron, one of the Weasley family, and one of Crookshanks. Scattered in between were a glass cylinder filled with seashells from Redland, an eternally-blooming bouquet of pink and yellow roses from Draco, and in pride of place in the center, her prized first-edition copy of Hogwarts: A History. Hanging on the wall above was a large print she’d found in Australia of the coastline not far from her parent’s house.

As far as her actual desk was concerned, most of the space was dedicated to work-related tasks, but in one corner stood a framed picture of her and Draco; one of her favorites of the two of them. Hannah had taken it during the Valentine’s Day party, though they hadn’t known it at the time. They were standing near the buffet table, where Draco’s incredible array of sweets were amassed, and the short moving image that replayed was one of him leaning down to whisper something in her ear, then straightening back up as she smiled at him. The look exchanged between them spoke volumes, even back then at such an early stage in their relationship. Hermione often found it helpful to put a freezing charm on the photograph, so as not to get distracted during the day; she’d get lost in a hazy daydream if she let herself stare at it for too long. Next to the mesmerizing picture were several inkpots, a jar with quills, a small notepad, and the snowglobe Draco had given her for her birthday. It glowed blue at random times throughout the day, and in each instance she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

Adjusting to life in the “real world” had gone more smoothly than she’d anticipated. Regardless of her reputed intelligence and ironclad work ethic, she had been worried that others in her department, particularly those who had been there for many years, would look at her as doe-eyed girl with no experience and little to offer the hallowed halls of the Ministry. Thankfully, that had not been the case. The witches and wizards who had offices around hers had been nothing but friendly and encouraging, and the handful of assistants who worked in a small central area near the reception desk were more than eager to do whatever she needed, whenever she asked. The only glitch in what she considered an ideal situation was one particular wizard named Quintus Warrington. The former Slytherin was two years older than his brother, Cassius, who had been two years ahead of Harry, Ron, and Hermione at school. She didn’t remember the older alumnus, but wasn’t surprised seeing as Fifth Years rarely interacted with Firsts, especially those outside of their own house, and the snakes in the dungeon even less so. Regardless, the handsome Pureblood went out of his way to introduce himself to the Gryffindor Princess on her very first day, making a point to announce he’d even cut a “very important meeting” short so as to make sure he caught her before she’d left at the end of it.

Hermione could admit he was attractive, even if she wasn’t the slightest bit interested, however the inky-black, effortlessly styled hair, piercing blue eyes, and classic features were wasted as soon as he opened his mouth. The sneering tone and overt arrogance floating towards her made her want to cast a silencing charm by the time he’d started a second sentence, and the way his eyes traveled a slow and lecherous path from her tan, kitten-heeled pumps to the top of her mostly-contained curls made her skin itch. It reminded her far too much of Adrian Pucey’s unwelcome advances and she had to take several deep breaths in order to reign in her growing annoyance, while her wand twitched in her hand. Thankfully, Gethsemane had arrived in the doorway before Quintus had said anything overtly offensive, and Hermione was pleased to note the presence of their boss had him hurriedly excusing himself, though not without making sure she knew his office was just across the hall, should she need anything. She fought a massive urge to roll her eyes as he scooted around the older witch who was observing him with narrowed eyes and thin lips, a slight shake of her head once he’d gone telling quite clearly how she felt about him.

“Let me know if you encounter any problems with your office neighbors,” Gethsemane offered wryly and Hermione nodded in understanding, a small smirk tugging on her lips.

“I think he’ll grow tired of being ignored soon enough,” she replied.

Unfortunately, the petite brunette had vastly underestimated Warrington’s tolerance for blatant disregard, as well as his almost-maniacal persistence. The first two weeks at her new job found Hermione constantly dodging invitations to lunch, coffee, afternoon tea, drinks at the pub, dinners at posh, expensive restaurants, and even day trips to impressive locations like Athens, Paris, and Stockholm. He found inane excuses to poke his head into her office and engage her in conversation, and often “conveniently” needed to walk in the same direction as she whenever she left her desk. She’d made it abundantly clear that she was happily dating Draco, but that only seemed to convince him he needed to try harder. He even went so far as to rearrange his office, so that his desk now sat at such a precise angle it afforded him a clear view of hers across the way. More times than she cared to count, she could feel his leer aimed at her and she learned quickly that it was best to ignore it. Making eye contact, however accidental or fleeting, only served as an invitation for the assertive git to stroll leisurely to her door and lean against the frame as if he had nothing better to do than to grace her with his presence. She knew the easiest solution would be to close her door, but she liked having it open and felt it was a much better, more welcoming message to send to her coworkers (save one) than a tightly sealed vault. After a fortnight, she knew more about the pompous prat than she’d ever wanted or needed to, including how many international portkeys he had at his disposal, how well-acquainted he was with the most notable names in the Wizarding World, how extensive his family’s library, wine cellars, manor grounds, and Gringotts vaults were, and (much to her mortification) how well versed he claimed to be in the ways of physical intimacy with a variety of witches. During a particularly vivid description of a date he’d recently been on with a gorgeous and wealthy heiress from Venice, the details of which he was sharing with a male coworker while standing in his office doorway, and speaking intentionally loud enough for her to clearly hear every word, she decided she’d had enough.

The very next morning, Hermione made her way to the Ministry Archives where she engaged the help of Anthony Goldstein, who was more than happy to be of assistance and grinned broadly as she briefly explained what she needed and why. Together the former-housemates located several texts about concealment spells, glamours, and wards, and after a few hours, came across one that she thought would do quite nicely with only the slightest amount of tweaking. That evening she practiced the spell, modifying it to suit her specific needs, and engaged Harry in several test runs just to make sure it worked accordingly. As always, her best friend huffed with admiration and shook his head as he noted her impressive abilities, grinning and telling her she had more Slytherin to her than she might want to admit. She turned her nose up and sniffed, saying she would take that as a compliment.

Upon arriving at work the next day, Hermione stopped in her boss’ office first, thinking it would be best to ask for permission to use the spell, harmless as it was. Gethsemane’s eyes twinkled even as one eyebrow arched in impressed curiosity while her new liaison explained her reasoning for employing such a thing. She nodded briskly, saying she thought it would be fine, and busied herself with the papers on her desk, but before Hermione made it out the door, commented that she might need to come see it in action for herself. Once Hermione reached her own office, she paused in the hall and glanced around, making sure no one was around before brandishing her wand and swirling it in an intricate pattern in front of her open door. Looking closely, she was able to detect just the slightest shimmer in the air indicating the magic had been performed successfully. Nodding to herself, she entered her workspace and set about the tasks she intended to focus on for the day.

About mid-way through the morning, Quintus arrived with his usual pomp and self-important air. He was often away from his desk, since his role as a census taker for several species of magical creatures required traveling to various locations, meeting with witches and wizards who were responsible for certain breeds, and checking in with the chieftains, leaders, patriarchs/matriarchs, and other heads of families, clans, herds, and pods of more sentient beings. No one seemed to mind his absence, Hermione least of all, but on this particular day, she was actually glad he’d come in solely because she wanted to see if her little plan worked. She kept her head bent towards the parchment in front of her, but her eyes kept track of Warrington as he moved about his office. She watched from her periphery as he sat down behind his desk and looked immediately in her direction. His brow furrowed with displeasure as he turned his attention to other matters. She took it as a good sign, and was rewarded further when she noticed him staring more pointedly at the spot she was still occupying almost an hour later, a look of consternation on his face. The true test came right before lunch, when a fellow census taker stopped by to ask Quintus a question, and at the end of their conversation she clearly heard him ask if his coworker knew “where Granger was.” The other wizard glanced over his shoulder towards her office, shrugged, and offered the possibility that she was in a meeting, or off-site for the day. Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the pout now clearly visible on the former Slytherin’s aristocratic visage, shook her head, and submerged herself in her work for the rest of the day, quite content with the peace and quiet now afforded her.

Several days passed in similar vein, with Warrington stopping by his office periodically, each and every time glancing hopefully across the hall to see if his newest department mate was accounted for. Each and every time, he was thoroughly disappointed to find only an empty chair behind an immaculate desk. Had he been the curious sort, he might have thought to check the petite witch’s calendar to see if she really was off-site, and had he done that, he would have found that the office was only empty until one stepped within roughly three inches from the threshold, and only then would any occupant be clearly, magically revealed. Thankfully, he was not the type to make much of an effort for things that didn’t have an immediate, personal payoff, so he never ventured her way. The lifts were the opposite direction down the hall, and the only reason he would need to go past her chamber would be to seek out their boss. Suffice to say, it all worked quite nicely in her favor.

As the third week of her covert operation was nearing its end, and Warrington seemed to have lost interest in her whereabouts, Harry popped by unexpectedly. Normally they met for lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the Ministry cafeteria, but he’d been called out for a case and had to miss. Instead, he appeared later that afternoon, brandishing a bag of biscuits and two cups of tea from a nearby bakery. She saw him approaching, and her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and alarm, as Quintus happened to be at his desk for the first time in several days. Frantically, she pointed to herself as Harry was still several steps from her doorway, shaking her head vigorously and mouthing that she wasn’t here. Understanding dawned on her best friend’s face as he grinned and slowed his pace, making it seem like he was looking for her as he peered into her office.

“If you’re looking for Granger, good luck,” Warrington grumbled, scowling at the Chosen One, who turned around and feigned confusion.

“Why’s that?” Harry played along.

“She’s never here. Don’t know where Prickle’s sent her off to, or how she’s still getting her work done, but it’s been at least two weeks since I’ve seen her,” he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Hermione’s seemingly-empty domain.

“I’ll just try to catch her later then,” Harry shrugged genially and was met with a snort of derision from the other wizard. As he turned to leave, not wanting to give away his flat-mate’s secret, he tilted his head towards the lifts, indicating that he’d be going back to his office, should she want to join him there. She nodded and grinned while rolling her eyes pointedly at Quintus, wordlessly explaining she’d follow in just a minute, after casting a disillusionment charm on herself and slipping out once his attention was focused elsewhere.

She arrived in the young Auror’s office with a satisfied grin on her face a few moments later, and plopped herself into the empty chair in front of Harry’s desk, noting the other seat piled high with files and scrolls. He heaved an exasperated sigh when he saw her glance towards the never-ending mountain of paperwork that seemed to have taken up permanent residency in his small chamber, but waved it away and brandished the bag of previously-proffered biscuits instead.

“Oooh, yum!” Hermione exclaimed, fishing a raspberry frosted one from the paper sack and gratefully accepting a still-steaming cup of tea from her best friend.

“Managed to escape, yeah?” green eyes flashed with mirth as he bit into his own chocolate-covered treat.

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “I don’t go in and out of my office very much, truth be told, except for lunch or to use the loo, and Warrington is gone so often it’s not been a problem.”

“What would have happened if I’d actually walked through your door?” Harry wondered.

“You would have disappeared behind the glamour,” was the smug reply. “Which I’m sure would have freaked him out quite a bit, but I’m thankful you didn’t. I’d like to keep my covert operation in place for as long as possible.”

“He seems to think you’re just gone all the time,” the messy-haired wizard chortled, “You know he’s eventually going to figure it out.”

“Yes, and I’m hoping that he’ll be so mortified that I went to such great lengths to avoid him, that he’ll steer clear from then on. But I realize he could just up the ante and become even more imposing and insufferable.”

“What happens if he goes with the latter?”

“I’ve debated asking Gethsemane if I can switch offices, if it comes to that. There’s an empty one around the corner from the lifts. It’s not as big, and it’s kind of tucked away from everyone else, but I’d take it if I’d be completely free from his advances.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Harry mused.

“Hmm, yes,” she agreed around a mouthful of lemon biscuit.

“Have you told Draco about him?”

Hermione snorted and nodded her head, rolling her eyes again, “He was predictably annoyed and felt the need to tell me multiple stories about how obnoxious both Warrington brothers are, as if I needed to be deterred from getting to know the entire family.” She sipped her tea and continued, “He also offered to visit me at work to glare at him in person if I felt like that would help.”

At this, Harry laughed outright, “I can just see him standing in your doorway, scowling at Warrington for hours on end, barely blinking or breathing, just to prove a point.” Hermione giggled at the mental image, knowing full well her boyfriend was entirely capable of making the object of his displeasure feel very ill-at-ease. She sighed, a combination of amusement over the situation and longing for her favorite wizard, but then caught Harry’s exasperated expression and quickly jumped into a topic of conversation he’d appreciate much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so not gonna lie, I adore the original HP characters with my whole heart, but I really, really enjoy creating my own quirky little "supporting actors" if you will. Guys like Pucey and Warrington are just so much fun to hate, and this particular scene really gave Hermione a chance to shine with her magical ability and the little bit of Slytherin cunning she seems to be nurturing since a certain wizard has entered her heart. I hope it brought a smile to your face on this regular ol' Monday! Thank you so much for reading!  
> *Note - Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington are NOT my own characters, but Quintus most definitely is. Just wanted to clarify :) Also, as in the first story of this series, the OC names are chosen intentionally, and many are related to other book/movie/show characters I'm fond of. I wonder if anyone might pick up on where they came from in this chapter...


	20. Zooming About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's in teacher mode before meeting with Harry, where they discuss the women in their lives, and Hermione leaves him hanging.

“Alright, Hobson, try it again without flinching.”

“Yes, sir,” Erik Hobson cleared his throat nervously, “U-up!” The broom twitched and hopped an inch or two off the ground, but otherwise remained dormant. “I’m never going to get the hang of it, sir,” the young boy mumbled dejectedly, scowling at the grass beneath his feet. Draco clapped a hand on his shoulder, causing a pair of brown eyes to reluctantly raise to meet his own pewter grey ones, and offered a bolstering smile.

“Of course you will! It just takes some getting used to,” he offered kindly but was met with a now-watery, despairing stare and a trembling lower lip. “Hey, hey, none of that,” he said quietly, bending down and placing both hands bracingly on the small Hufflepuff’s shoulders as he sank to eye-level. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” he offered, looking around conspiratorially to make sure none of the other First Years were listening, “It’s not the end of the world if you aren’t comfortable on a broom. Plenty of witches and wizards don’t fly.”

“Sure,” the muttered reply sounded disbelieving and resigned, though Erik at least refrained from rolling his eyes at his instructor.

“I’m serious,” Draco continued, lowering his voice further. “Did you know that Hermione Granger – famous, one third of the Golden Trio, war heroine Hermione Granger – hates brooms? She’s only ever ridden one once, as far as I know, and not by herself.” He was pleased to see the downtrodden expression on his student’s face had turned to one of shock and amazement, and then morphed to complete elation as the weight of that secret sank in.

“No way,” he breathed in an awed whisper, “She can’t fly?”

“Nope,” Draco smirked, “It’s about the only thing she can’t do, honestly, but she’s hopeless at it.”

A slow grin spread across the younger wizard’s face and his eyes lit up with this newfound knowledge. Feeling he might need to head off the rumor mill that Hogwarts thrived on, he put his stern teacher voice to work.

“That’s something you need to keep to yourself, right?” he stood up to his full height, towering over the lad, and arched a brow for good measure. Erik adopted a solemn expression and nodded vehemently. The tall blonde sighed inwardly, knowing his girlfriend would not appreciate everyone gossiping about her aversion to the most basic form of transportation in the magical world.

“Yes, sir, I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” he paused and cocked his head, studying his Flying Instructor with a curious look. “I bet you could teach her to fly, sir. You’ve taught everyone else,” he waved his hand vaguely to encompass the rest of the First Years from his house out on the pitch. Most of them were in the “lift off and hover” phase of their training, though a few were capable of flying short distances close to the ground. Erik was the only one in this class still unable to even mount his broom, but there were one or two from each of the other three houses in the same predicament.

Draco openly laughed, “Believe me, Erik, I have offered, teased, threatened, and bribed, but she absolutely refuses to even hold one, much less attempt to get on it.” He could see Hermione’s furious expression with complete clarity as he said this; her flashing eyes, furrowed brow, pursed lips, and pink cheeks, as she lifted her chin defiantly and fisted her hands on her waist. “But if she ever changes her mind, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know,” he winked at the now much-happier boy and pointed to the uncooperative stick on the ground. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

ooOoo

As was often the case, Draco found himself rushing down the hall to his quarters. He’d gotten held up by a pair of Fourth Years after DADA who were arguing the merits of wandless versus wordless spell casting. He’d been pleasantly surprised by the well thought out points each side presented, and had engaged in the debate for several minutes, playing both sides (much to the students’ frustration). As they’d tabled the discussion for another time, he realized he was going to be late for his weekly meeting with Harry and set off to drop his belongings before making his way to Bill’s office, which they’d continued to use since the previous year.

As he rounded the corner almost at a jog, he stopped abruptly at the sight of the raven-haired wizard leaning against the doorframe of his chambers.

“Potter,” he raised a hand in greeting, “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry shrugged off the wall with a friendly grin, “Bill needed to meet with a colleague from Gringotts, so he told me to come up here. S’alright?”

“Sure, sure,” Draco nodded as he opened his door and gestured for his liaison to pass through. “Give me just a second to toss this,” his words trailed after him as he strode to his bedroom to dispose of his satchel, armload of books and papers, and his robes, before returning to the sitting area. “Something to drink?” he asked his guest and a request for pumpkin juice was made. The tall blonde happened to have several bottles on hand, leftover from the Game Night a few weeks before and was happy to oblige.

The two wizards settled in, Draco in the armchair, Harry sprawled on the sofa, and engaged in a bit of catching up since their previous meeting. Nothing of any major note had happened in the castle, and life outside the ancient walls was equally routine, though the young Auror seemed to hesitate before broaching the next topic.

“We’ve had a bit of news from Azkaban,” he began tentatively, watching Draco’s face carefully since he was well aware of his former-nemesis’ feelings towards his father and the rest of the Death Eaters who now resided in the Wizarding prison. As expected, a clenched jaw and icy stare met his statement, and with a nod of the Pureblood’s head, he continued.

“Not entirely sure if it’s anything to be concerned about, or if it’s all even connected, but you know the Ministry has increased its presence there since the war, and has made a point to complete quarterly checks on both the facilities and the inmates,” again the platinum head nodded. “The last round of scans showed a very minor decrease in the overall _magical health_ ,” Harry used air quotes with that phrase, indicating he didn’t know a better way to describe it, “among those left from Vodlemort’s inner circle. Nott Sr., Goyle, Crabbe, Rowle, Dolohov, Travers, Avery, Yaxley, and your father all have slightly less magical strength than they did when the first scan was done upon their incarceration. At first, it was attributed to the fact that they’d been there for over a year, but Greyback is also there and his powers remain completely intact. Also, both of the Carrows have been there the same amount of time, and both of them are far weaker at this point.”

Harry paused, letting this information sink in and giving Draco a chance to process it before responding in any way. He could tell his friend was mulling it over, even though his face gave nothing away. The vein in his temple was visible, which was a telltale sign of stress, and he was staring unseeingly towards the windows where the sky was darkening as the dinner hour approached.

“Otherwise they are in stable condition?” he finally asked.

“Yes, as far as we know.”

After several more seconds of silence, Draco seemed to come back to himself as he shook his head, shrugged, and pinned Harry with a serious look, “Just keep me posted on any significant changes.”

“Of course.”

The two young men spent the next hour talking Quidditch and jobs and girlfriends, and the morose topic from earlier was forgotten. Harry told Draco about Ginny’s latest tournament, and how, even though he was immensely proud of her and very glad she was doing so well, he hated that every win meant she’d be gone even longer.

“I can understand that,” Draco commiserated. “I’m too busy to think most days here, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss Hermione all the time. I find myself thinking about her at the most random moments. For example, the other day I was walking past the Transfiguration classroom and heard Penelope lecturing on Gamp’s Law, and it made me think of our very first Game Night last year and,” he flipped his hand around in a circle several times, “You know how that goes.” He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, “Never thought I’d be such a sodding sap about a witch.”

Harry snickered along with him, “I know. Everything reminds me of Gin; things I see, or hear, or smell. For Godric’s sake, the other day someone in the bullpen had some sort of strawberry-scented something on; shampoo, or lotion, or what have you; and I just about lost the show. It’s ridiculous.”

“Well, then here’s to being ridiculous,” Draco tipped his bottle of juice towards Harry, who clinked his in cheers and they both snorted in good-natured derision.

“You think you’ll marry her?” grey eyes sought out green with intense scrutiny.

Harry didn’t hesitate for even a fraction of a second, “Absolutely. Not this year or anything, but definitely in the not-too-distant future.”

Draco pondered this for a heartbeat or two, “When do you think you’ll propose?”

Harry shrugged, “No clue. Why? You planning on getting engaged soon?”

“Merlin, no. I refuse to saddle Hermione with the shame of being betrothed to someone still on probation. Most of the outside world doesn’t even know we’re together, since we were here all last year. Once it gets out, you know what a circus that will be. I at least want to be done with my sentencing requirements before I put a ring on her finger.”

While Harry could understand this logic, he also knew his flat-mate very well, “You think she’d really care about anyone else’s opinion?”

Draco shook his head, “I know she wouldn’t, but I do. Not for myself, but for her. I don’t want people demeaning her or tarnishing her reputation. I feel guilty for enough as it is, I’d rather not add something I can avoid to the list.”

Again, Harry could see his point, “Have you talked about this with her?”

“Not really,” Draco heaved a sigh, “We’ve only been officially together for a little over 10 months, not even a year. While she knows I’m definitely serious about her and that I want a future with her, we haven’t discussed anything beyond getting settled into our respective jobs this term.” He paused for a moment, “That’s another thing. I have no idea what I’ll be doing for a job after this year ends. If Bill stays on, he won’t need me anymore. If he decides to leave, I won’t be qualified to take the full-time spot on my own. I want to have a solid career plan in place before I propose.”

“I get it, I really do. If you’d like a piece of advice regarding my best friend, though,” Harry paused, a brow cocked in question and Draco nodded in encouragement, “Talk to her about all this. Tell her what you’re thinking and why, and hear her take on things, too. Hermione’s an open book and she expects the same from those she’s closest to.”

The pale blonde nodded, knowing the Bespectacled One was right and recognizing the importance of keeping the lines of communication open. While he corresponded with his favorite witch every night in their two-way journal, those conversations tended to be lighter, teasing and more than a little sappy. He supposed a topic like this would be better for a “real” letter, or even an in-person chat, though he’d rather not waste their few and far-between visits on heavy discussions. Regardless, he would most certainly take Harry’s counsel to heart and told him as much, immediately regretting it when a smug smirk bloomed on the messy-haired prat’s face.

ooOoo

_Any requests for specific snacks for our Halloween themed Game Night next weekend?_

_**Hmmm… I’ll have to think. Honeyduke’s always has amazing holiday items.**_

**_Do you have your costume picked out?_ **

_Perhaps… Are we supposed to coordinate?_

_**We don’t have to, if you’ve got something in mind already.**_

_Neville came up with an idea for all the guys._

_**Oh how fun! Maybe all the girls can do something, too.**_

_I’m sure you creative ladies can come up with something._

_Though it won’t be as good as ours._

_**Oh, really? We’ll see about that.**_

_Do you already have a game picked out?_

_**Yes! Dean gets all the credit this time – it’s one I’d only heard of, never played.**_

_Interesting. So, maybe, for once, you won’t have an advantage over the rest of us?_

_**Har har. No complaining from you – most of those games are based on pure luck, not skill. It’s not like I’m a better dice-roller or card dealer than anyone else.**_

_If you say so._

_Think we could manage some more exclusivity this time around?_

_**What do you mean?  
**_

_I mean, as much as I enjoy getting together with everyone, I’d really like to spend some time with just you, and slightly less than an hour was not enough last month._

_**Ah. I’ll see what I can do. My schedule is very full for the weekend, you know, so I might have to move a few things around…**_

_Oh, yes, I’m sure it will be incredibly difficult to quill me in between debating Muggle authors with Theo and braiding Padma’s hair._

_**Shut it, you. Theo and I only got into one discussion, thank you very much, and it’s not my fault the girls all congregated in my room that second night!**_

_Just giving you a hard time, love. I do so enjoy riling you up._

_**I’ll have to do some riling of my own, I suppose.**_

_I look forward to it._

_Exactly one week from now you’ll get to see me._

_**Don’t you mean you’ll get to see me?**_

_I said what I said._

_**You’re insufferable.**_ ****

_But you love me._

_**Yes. I most certainly do.**_ ****

_I love you, too._

_More than you can possibly imagine._

_**I happen to have a very good imagination.**_

_Then imagine me kissing you goodnight and telling you how wonderful you are._

_**I do that every night.**_

_Now who’s insufferable?_

_**But I think you should imagine me kissing you – on that spot right below your jaw – while I whisper how much I love you. And then imagine me slowly unbuttoning your shirt, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your**_

**_..._ **

**_..._ **

_Wait._

_Where did you go?_

_Hermione?_

_**Sorry! Harry’s home. Time for dinner. Talk to you tomorrow! Love you!!**_

_WHAT?_

_No._

_That’s not nice._

_Hermione!_

_..._

_Oh, there will so be payback for that, love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Draco as a teacher and his interactions with the younger students makes me happy :) He and Harry continue to build upon their friendship, and for once, Hermione got to be the teasing one. I hope you're all having a decent week - it's hard to believe we're halfway through June already. I keep wondering when everything will go back to normal... Thanks so much for reading and commenting! I've just posted the first chapter of a three-part fic entitled "What She Wants," and would love for you to check it out!! <3


	21. The Task at Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione spends some time with a friend, and puts a coworker in his place.

It had taken Hermione a bit longer to get over to her childhood home and gather the things her parents had requested than she’d anticipated, but she blocked out an entire weekend in October for just that purpose. She wanted to make sure it was done before her folks came to visit right after Halloween, and with Game Night taking place the weekend before, her time table was limited.

While she was perfectly capable of accomplishing the task by herself, she knew there was the potential for her to become overwhelmed or sidetracked, and decided to bring a friend along for company. Harry and Ron were off to watch one of Ginny’s matches, so she immediately invited Luna and was very pleased to learn the airy blonde was available. They met for a quick breakfast at a coffee shop two blocks away from Grimmauld, and then apparated to the Granger’s house. Everything looked exactly as it had over a year ago when Hermione had moved her things to Harry’s and placed all the security wards and charms throughout the quaint two-story home. Standing in the middle of the living room brought a wave of emotion crashing over her that she wasn’t prepared for. So much had changed in her life since she’d last been there, and it was difficult to wrap her heart and mind around it all.

Luna, ever the perceptive one, didn’t seem to need to ask why there were silent tears coursing down her friend’s cheeks, and simply wrapped an arm around the petite brunette and laid her head on her shoulder as she waited for the storm to pass. After several minutes, Hermione regained her composure and offered a watery smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know where that came from,” she admitted.

“No need to apologize. There’s lots of memories here, and it was the start of something new and beautiful for you and Draco,” Luna shrugged and glanced around the cozy space. “It’s a lot like I’d pictured it.”

Hermione chuckled and wiped her eyes again, “You’re right, as usual. I can’t believe it’s been fourteen months since we sat at that table and had our first real, civil, meaningful conversation. Who knew what would become of that?” She faced her friend who was watching her with quiet contemplation, “Well, you probably knew.”

Luna smiled in a way that didn’t confirm or deny that assumption before asking what she could help with, and at once they set about rounding up the list of things Jeanette and Edward had asked for.

By the time the sun started to sink low in the sky, five boxes, one picnic hamper, one cooler, two laundry baskets, and a bucket of garden tools sat waiting by the fireplace. The witches had scoured every cupboard, drawer, closet, and shelf searching for the desired items, and had managed to find them all, save one small figurine Edward had given Jeanette back when they were still dating. Hermione remembered the trinket that used to sit on top of her mother’s dresser, next to a picture of them from around the same time. She was mildly surprised it wasn’t one of the things already in Redland, seeing as it would have held sentimental value, and it was her father who’d requested she look for it. Perhaps they’d put it somewhere in their new house and just forgot.

After resetting the wards and moving everything to a closet in one of the spare bedrooms at Grimmauld, Hermione insisted on taking Luna to dinner as thanks for spending the day with her and helping her get everything done. They decided on a local Chinese place, since the former Ravenclaw had recently discovered that cuisine and was immensely fond of it. Over potstickers and lo mein, they discussed the wizards in their lives.

“How’s Theo been?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, he’s wonderful,” Luna replied dreamily, “He’s convinced Daddy that having several regular columns in the paper helps keep continued interest, better than just random, unconnected bits in every edition. He’s currently working on the second part of a series on wandlore, and a third piece about magical birds. The first was dedicated to the Phoenix, the second to Thunderbirds, and this one is about Augureys.”

“That’s terrific,” the curly-haired witch exclaimed, and she meant it. While The Quibbler might have been a bit of a joke in previous years, ever since Xenophilius featured Harry’s story about Voldemort’s resurrection during Fifth Year, it had grown in popularity by leaps and bounds. The eccentric editor had earned the respect of many in Wizarding Britain when he continued to stand firm in his convictions and published the truth during the war. No one blamed him for stopping when Luna had been kidnapped, and business had boomed as soon as he’d been able to start printing once again.

Luna nodded enthusiastically, “They get on very well. Sometimes it’s as if I’m not even in the room when they get started on a specific topic.” She laughed lightly and waved her hand at Hermione’s sympathetic expression, “I don’t mind in the slightest. I’ve always been close to my father, but Theo’s never had that. I’m alright with letting him make up for lost time.” She shrugged and tilted her head, studying her dinner companion for a moment before posing her own question. “How’s Draco?”

Hermione’s smile was immediate and reflexive. Anytime he came across her mind she couldn’t help the upturn of her lips or the little skip her heart gave.

“He’s doing really well. He loves both of his roles at the school, and has enjoyed getting to know more of the students.”

“Is it very hard, being apart much of the time?”

“Yes, and no. We talk through our two-way journals just about every night, and send longer letters every week. Since I started my job, it’s been easier since I have a set routine now and the days go by quicker. Knowing I get to see him every month helps, too,” she grinned as she thought about the second Game Night coming up in less than a week.

“Routine is helpful,” Luna mused thoughtfully, “Theo likes to tease me, because I have a bit of a checklist I go through each night before bed, and sometimes he’s a little more impatient than others for me to finish.” Her wide blue eyes twinkled as she spoke and a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. Hermione felt her cheeks blush as she took in her friend’s meaning and she dropped her gaze to her plate.

“Draco and I haven’t…” she let her words trail off, knowing her intuitive friend understood.

“There’s no rush,” Luna said encouragingly, “You’ve got your whole lives ahead of you, and he just wants everything to be perfect for you.”

Brown eyes flashed back up to blue, “What do you mean? Has he said something about it?”

“Oh, no, it’s just something I picked up from watching him with you last term, and when we were all together recently.” Hermione cocked a brow in question and Luna continued, “Draco is madly in love with you, but he still carries a lot of guilt and shame from everything. It’s much better than it used to be, but burdens like his are hard to get rid of. Theo is similar in that way, but his list of regrets is slightly shorter.”

Hermione pondered this as they both ate a few bites in companionable silence. She knew her favorite wizard still dealt with lingering doubt and remorse, but she couldn’t figure out how that tied into the aspect of their relationship Luna was referring to. As if she’d read her mind, the ethereal blonde spoke again.

“Draco just wants his past to be as far behind him as possible when he offers you a future, and he doesn’t want a physical relationship to influence your decision to accept him.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. When she could finally form the words, she asked, “Does he honestly think I would feel trapped if we were to take things… you know…” she gestured to encompass the whole idea, “Does he truly believe I’d ever turn him down? That I don’t want a life with him?” The thought of the man who owned her heart having even the smallest doubt about her love for him or her desire to be with him brought tears to her eyes and Luna rushed to reassure her once again.

“He doesn’t doubt you, Hermione. He doubts himself. Just give him some time to find his footing. He’ll get there. The Plimpies have never been wrong before,” she smiled serenely, and Hermione just decided to take her word for it. She had no idea what the Plimpies could possibly have to do with anything, but found a sense of peace in her sweet friend’s firm belief in a future she would share with one specific, tall, platinum-haired man.

ooOoo

“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” a sneering voice interrupted Hermione’s focus as she was writing the final draft of her latest proposal regarding Centaur rights. Glancing up with evident surprise, she took in the sight of Quintus Warrington leaning against her doorframe, a triumphant smirk across his face.

She wasn’t surprised to see him at all, since he worked across the way, but she was very surprised _he_ could see _her_ and mentally kicked herself for forgetting to cast her daily protective enchantment before entering her office. She’d been so intent on getting started with the revisions she’d planned for the document, she had apparently forgotten to take her usual precautionary steps. Of course, it had to happen on a day when Warrington was actually in the building.

Feigning ignorance to his remark, she simply tilted her head and asked, “Did you need something?”

His gaze roved lazily over whatever parts of her he could see, seated behind her desk as she was, and made no attempt to hide his appreciation for what he observed. He pushed off the wall and strode in like he owned the place, flashing what she was positive he considered to be his most winning smile, though she honestly thought it looked leering and creepy.

“Need something? No,” he stopped right in front of her desk, hands in his pockets, and leaned forward just a tad to bring himself closer to eye level but not quite, “However, I would very much like for you to join me for lunch today, seeing as we’re both here for a change.”

Silently thanking all the Founders, Hermione smiled more broadly than was probably necessary as she replied, “While that sounds lovely, I have a meeting with the heads of all three Regulation departments in Kingsley’s office, where lunch is being served.” Throwing out the Minister of Magic’s first name was not an accident; she knew it rankled people like Warrington, who were from society’s oldest, wealthiest, and for many years, most highly-respected families, that she and many of her peers had infiltrated the ranks, and that they were on such familiar terms with those in the highest positions.

True to form, Warrington scowled before he could school his aristocratic features into a smooth mask once again. Not one to be so easily deterred, especially since he’d been itching for a chance like this for weeks, he tried again.

“How about tomorrow then? Or Thursday? Oh, wait, no, I’ll be in Shropshire Thursday. Friday would work, too,” again, the over-confident smirk was back and she wanted nothing more than to fling a handful of Stinksap at it.

“Hmm,” Hermione made a show of thinking and even checking her calendar, which she made sure to hold at an angle he wouldn’t be able to read, “This just isn’t the best week for me. I won’t be here tomorrow or Thursday, and then Friday I’m heading out of town for the weekend, and I plan to leave early, so I won’t be taking a lunch break at all.” While she was absolutely going to be in her office for the next two days, as far as Warrington would be able to tell, she would be gone, since she had no intention of ever forgetting to cast her self-made spell again.

This time, the glower remained on the raven-haired wizard’s face, “Where do you keep going? You’re hardly ever here!” He was agitated and getting pushy, and it was starting to annoy her.

“Wherever my work requires me to be,” she responded, all pretense at niceties gone, “I don’t ask you for a report on your whereabouts, so I’m not at all sure why mine matter to you.” A more prudent person would recognize the fire in her eyes and the steely tone in her voice, and retreat quickly. Quintus Warrington was no such person.

“If you’d care to ask, I’d gladly tell you anything you want to know about me, love,” his irritation gone in an instant, the charm oozing once more. “Since your work days are so chock full of important meetings and duties and what have you, perhaps drinks afterwards would give us a better chance to _report_ to one another, as you put it.”

She’d had enough and didn’t even bother to hold back her derisive scoff or the roll of her eyes, “I didn’t put it like that at all, Warrington. I’m going to spell this out for you as simply as I can, since apparently you read social cues as proficiently as a doorknob. While I’m sure there are many witches in this vast establishment who would swoon at the chance to spend time with you, I am not one of them. I am extremely happy in my relationship with Draco and have no desire to spend even a modicum of time with any other wizard. Even if I was _not_ currently attached, I feel quite confident in saying I still would not welcome your advances. So please, for at least the fifteenth time, my answer is _no_ , so stop asking!”

She’d risen to her feet as her tirade had gone on, and Warrington finally had the sense to take a step or two back as he noticed the wand in her hand sparking as her ire grew. Unbeknownst to either of them, a small crowd of coworkers had gathered in the hall as her volume increased, and with her final word, had broken out in a smattering of applause. Warrington whipped around to see the audience there, his cheeks turning ruddy, his eyes hard. He looked back at Hermione as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and simply nodded jerkily before storming out of her office, shoving through the onlookers, and slamming his own office door behind him.

Hermione was mortified. She rarely lost her temper in such a way, and never in a professional setting. Her face was burning and her hands shaking, and she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole when Gethsemane appeared. The rest of her department members dispersed, though not without flashing her gleeful smiles, giving her thumbs up, or saying things like “ _good on you_ ,” and “ _he had it coming_.”

“I am so sorry,” she began but her boss held up a hand and smiled kindly.

“No need to apologize at all, Hermione,” the older witch sat down in the chair across from her newest and brightest team member. “Quintus has made more foes than allies since he started here, and if he wasn’t so incredibly good at his job, I’d find a way to pass him off to another department. That doesn’t mean he gets a pass for his behavior. Good for you for putting him in his place,” her eyes twinkled with mirth as well as a level of respect for the young woman before her.

“Thank you,” Hermione’s cheeks were still blazing and her heart racing a mile a minute, but she was relieved to know she wasn’t in trouble for her outburst. “I promise I don’t usually react like that. He just got on my last nerve today,” she shrugged and gave a sheepish grin, “I still plan to use my wards, but maybe after a bit they won’t be necessary anymore.”

“One can only hope,” Gethsemane replied with a light chuckle. After that, the topic of conversation turned to the proposal the petite brunette had been working on and the upcoming meeting with Kingsley, and the sulking wizard across the hall was quite forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, sweet Luna. I adore her, and I'm especially fond of her relationship with Theo. As for Quintus.... I thought it was about time Hermione gave him what for (as we southerners like to say - lol). Hope this week is off to a good start for all of you. I finally posted the last chapter of "What She Wants," which is why I'm late getting this one up (sorry!). Thank you, as always, for being part of this journey with me!


	22. A Group Effort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for Game Night are underway, Bill hands Draco the reigns, and Hermione's on a roll.

“Coach Malfoy! Wait!”

Draco paused in his determined stride down the corridor and turned to see who was calling him. It had been Christopher who started referring to him by that title, and within days after the start of term, it had stuck. He wasn’t technically a professor, and it was rather confusing to call him “Mister,” when that’s how the staff addressed the male students, and he was secretly pleased by the nickname. In one-on-one conversation, they still called him “sir,” but in instances like this, when his attention was needed from further away, the moniker was useful.

This time, it was Andrew who was hollering it from the end of the crowded hall. The older wizard waited as the youngster made his way to him as quickly as possible amidst the throng of students traveling between classes.

“How can I help you, Andrew?”

“Gardener Longbottom asked me to give this to you,” the boy held out a small scroll of parchment.

“ _Gardener Longbottom_?” Draco inquired, his brow arched in amusement.

Andrew grinned, “Well, yeah. We decided he needed a title, too, since he’s rather in the same boat as you. Neither of you are professors, but you’re not students, so…” He shrugged as if that explained everything and Draco huffed a laugh. He supposed it was better than “Apprentice Belby,” which was what Professor Sinistra made everyone refer to Marcus as, while he was training to earn his Astronomy mastery.

“Well, thank you for delivering this. I’ll be sure to get back to Gardener Longbottom as quickly as possible,” Draco clapped the Second Year on the shoulder and started to turn away as Andrew spoke again.

“See you Sunday for the shmoes roast, yeah?”

“The what?” he paused and refocused his attention on the sandy-haired Gryffindor.

“Shmoes roast,” Andrew’s brows furrowed in thought, “At least that’s what I think it’s called.” Draco was completely nonplussed as his young friend attempted to clarify. “It’s what all of us Second Years were invited to for this month when you lot have your weekend together. Dean sent Aiden an owl last week telling him. All I know is there’s chocolate and fire involved,” he beamed, obviously quite excited about it.

“Well, whatever it is, it sounds terrific,” Draco grinned, “And yes, I’ll see you then, but first I’ll see you in Defense tomorrow.” His reminder earned him a cheeky eye roll as the lad nodded and took off in the direction of his next class.

Setting off once again for his previous destination, the tall blonde opened the missive from his former housemate.

_Draco,_

_I switched my last tutoring session to tomorrow, so I can help you with snacks in Hogsmeade later. Meet at the Entrance after last lesson?_

_Neville_

“Perfect,” he commented out loud as he strode down the hall. Upon entering Bill’s classroom, he paused to reply in agreement, making sure to address it to _Gardener Longbottom_ , before snagging the first student to enter the room and asking that they take it to its intended recipient in the greenhouse.

Bill had asked him to teach the entire chapter on cursed objects to their Fifth Years that week; a task that had both thrilled and worried him. While he’d been steadily taking on more responsibilities as they grew closer to Fleur’s due date, all the lessons he’d been helping with had been entirely prepared and laid out by the eldest Weasley. This time, he’d been on his own from start to finish. He’d spent the previous weekend taking detailed notes on the chapter, creating a lesson plan that included objectives based on what he wanted the students to learn, and even put together some visuals and interactive activities to get them more involved. They only had their Fifth Years on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so there was quite a bit of information to cover in just two lessons.

Tuesday had gone exceedingly well, as Bill had repeatedly told him. The first part of each class period was focused on general knowledge and book work. The second part was more practical. With his mentor’s permission, Draco had assembled a collection of random objects and had cast spells on most of them. The majority were harmless and could not even be remotely considered “cursed,” but a few were actually dosed with mild dark magic. Students were going to be paired up and sent to each object around the room to see if they could determine what kind of enchantment, if any, had been placed, and if so, how to go about removing it.

Throughout the previous weeks, the Fifth Years had learned some basic diagnostic spells the Gringotts team often used, as well as a strong set of protective charms. All four classes did a great job with the activity, with everyone remembering the steps, and almost all the pairs correctly identifying the magic used. The only exception was a Slytherin boy who got a little over zealous about the enlarged salt shaker in question and insisted it was cursed, even though his partner thought otherwise. The result was the casting of a spell that vanished the glass container, but sent the salt blasting in all directions. Thankfully, it was the last class of the day and the mess was easily tidied up.

Today’s lessons followed a similar pattern. Students would start with a short quiz based on what they had learned the last time, then notes taken on the second part of the chapter. For the hands-on part, Draco had requested permission to use a slightly darker spell and have the young witches and wizards work in groups of four or five to follow a series of steps that would (hopefully) end with the curse being removed. He’d drawn on his experience with the curse-breakers at Gringotts back in March when he came up with the idea.

The last class of Fifth Years settled into their seats, and Draco waved his wand, causing their surprise test to appear on their desks. After the expected chorus of shock and dismay they got to work. The room was silent aside from the scratching of quills, the occasional shifting of position, and the gentle rustle of robes as the tall blonde wove in between the desks, eyeing their progress and making mental notes to himself along the way. Once everyone was finished, parchments were summoned to the front desk and textbooks were opened.

Bill watched from a seat in the front corner as his assistant presented the material in a clear and concise fashion, asked engaging questions at regular intervals, and allowed students the opportunity to share their knowledge. The former Slytherin was patient and encouraging, never chastising anyone for incorrect information, but simply guiding them in a better direction. The professor was incredibly proud of the growth he’d observed in the young man over the year he’d gotten to know him, and felt he truly had a gift for working with young witches and wizards.

As the practical part of the lesson drew upon them, Draco put them in predetermined groups. The curse-breaking activity wouldn’t take too terribly long, so those not engaged would be participating in a small research assignment while one team at a time worked together to solve the problem. He even went so far as to set up a simple barrier around them so no one else could see how it was to be accomplished. The steps that needed to be taken were thus:

  * _Cast protective charms, to be maintained by at least two team members at all times._
  * _Diagnose the object(s) and determine what kinds of spells have been used, and how many items are in question._
  * _Work together to remove any charms or wards hindering access._
  * _Work together to remove curses._
  * _Physically hand the previously cursed object to the teacher._



The steps needed to be performed in the correct order, and everyone on the team had to participate in order for full marks to be achieved. In this particular class, there were three groups of four, and one group of five, with the largest one going last. The first three teams were able to accomplish their goal without any major problems, and all within the expected time frame, though Draco had promised no marks would be taken if it took longer. It wasn’t the speed with which it was completed, but the accuracy that mattered.

The fourth team struggled from the beginning. They couldn’t decide who should do what, nor did they appear to communicate very well with one another. By the time the other students had been finished, they were still attempting to remove the basic charms and wards, and the class was almost over. Frustrations were high and when an argument broke out between two of the members, Draco stepped in.

“Alright, let’s take a breather. I’m not sure what the problem is here, but you lot usually work together better than this,” he arched a brow and pursed his lips, waiting for an explanation. None was forthcoming, as five pairs of eyes stared fixedly at the ground. Not wanting to give them incomplete scores on what was a rather weighty assignment, he thought for a moment before coming to a conclusion.

“We’ll be moving on from this topic next lesson, but it’s important for you to finish the activity. I want to see all five of you in here at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. You’ll start back at the beginning, and receive full marks if you can complete it within a reasonable time frame,” he paused and was glad to see each of them met his gaze as he spoke, though he noticed one girl and one boy were glaring daggers at each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. “This evening, I think it would be helpful for you to review your notes, and perhaps have a conversation amongst yourselves so that whatever issues overrode your progress here can be resolved. Understood?”

Three heads immediately nodded and relieved expressions crossed those faces. The other two remained sullen, though they agreed with a lackluster, “yes, sir,” before he dismissed them.

Bill was chuckling as he approached Draco, and they both watched as the students packed up their supplies and made their way to the door.

“So, do you think it’s academic competition, personality conflict, or romantic entanglement that had Miss Prewett and Mister Chang at each other’s throats today?”

“Who knows?” Draco shrugged and huffed with exasperation, “She’s a bit of a firecracker, but he’s not usually so obstinate.”

“Regardless of their struggle, you did a fantastic job again today,” Bill said encouragingly, “I can honestly say I wish I could have sat a lesson like this when I was their age. I don’t think we did a single practical activity in Defense the entire time I was enrolled.”

“Really?” Draco was surprised. Even though the position was held by a different professor every year, he recalled multiple opportunities to use his wand in the classroom. Granted, with Lockhart, it was because the git was completely useless against the creatures he brought in, and with Moody, it was because he was an insane Death Eater, but Lupin had done some amazing stuff with them, as had Snape. He always liked lessons better when it wasn’t just book work, so that was how he approached teaching, and it seemed most of the students felt likewise.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Bill nodded as the two headed towards the exit, “Good luck with that crew tomorrow. I’ll be interested to hear how it goes when I see you in our first class of the day. An hour later.” A wide smirk flashed across his scarred face and Draco groaned good-naturedly, knowing he’d be getting up even earlier than those students because he had to reset the activity before they arrived. However, the knowledge that it would be Friday, and that Hermione would be arriving later that day was more than enough to make up for a lost hour or so of sleep.

ooOoo

_Hey, love, what’s a schmo?_

_**A what?**_

_A schmo. Andrew said it’s something to do with chocolate and fire? The Second Years are coming to have it with us on Sunday?_

_**Oh! He means s’mores! And yes, Dean decided in the spirit of Fall and Halloween, that we should have a Muggle tradition – a bonfire and s’mores roast!**_

_Okay… and what exactly is a s’more?_

_**It’s a sweet snack: roasted marshmallow sandwiched between graham crackers (a type of biscuit) and a piece of chocolate. It’s delicious!**_

_Sounds interesting. I’ll try anything with chocolate at least once, so I’m in._

_**I t** **hink you’ll like it.**_

_How do you roast the marshmallow?_

_**On a stick. A long one so you don’t burn yourself. They get crispy on the outside and melted in the middle. It’s messy, but sooo good.**_

_I’ll have to observe your technique. Are you sure it’s safe to have all the younger students around such a big flame?_

_**Yes, Professor Overprotective. It will be perfectly fine. It’s not like they’ll be able to walk right up to it – there will be a ring of stones around it to keep everyone back a decent bit.**_

_Just making sure._

_**Have you never had a bonfire?**_

_No. Any fires at the Manor were in the hearth._

_You coming straight from work again?_

_**Yes. As soon as I get my statistics for the Werewolf office correlated and turned in, I’ll be able to head out.**_

**_I can’t wait to see you!_ **

_And I can’t wait for you to see me._

_**Not this again.**_

_What? You just said,_

_**I’m quite sure I’m not the only one looking forward to us being in the same room again.**_

_Not at all. I’m very excited for you to be in my room._

_**Draco! That’s not even what I’m talking about!**_

_I have some very specific plans in mind for when you are._

_**Oh, really?**_

_Yes. I have this fabulous new duvet that never gets wrinkled, no matter how much you muss it up._

_I’m quite eager to test it out with double the amount of mussing going on._

_**You’re ridiculous.**_

_Well, if you think that, perhaps I’ll invite someone else to do the mussing._

_**You wouldn’t dare.**_

_Why not? Theo used to jump on his bed all the time, I’m sure he’d be happy to help me out with my experiment._

_**I give up.**_

_Never give up, love. It’s a plebeian trait._

_**Oh My Godric.**_

_So, that’s a no for you on the mussing? I need to know in case Theo isn’t available._

_He and Luna might be doing some mussing of their own, and I wouldn’t want to interrupt._

_**Wait, so are we talking about wrinkling blankets, or other…activities?**_

_What other activities did you think we were talking about?_

_**I don’t even know anymore!**_

**_I was just looking forward to spending some time with my boyfriend and now I’m not sure if he wants to snog me, or simply wants me to throw his bedding on the floor!_ **

_Couldn’t we do both?_

_**This is absurd.**_

_We could throw the bedding on the floor and then snog on top of it._

_In fact, that might be the best way to test the anti-wrinkle property._

_**That’s it. I’m done.**_

**_I’m going to go now and pack for this weekend._ **

**_I love you._ **

_I know._

_**Can’t you behave?**_

_Never._

**_Then maybe I won’t either._ **

_How’s that?_

_**Well, I know how much you like it when I get a little…enthusiastic.**_

_Yes. Yes, I do._

_**I could muster some enthusiasm at some point, I suppose…**_

_Oh, really?_

_When might that occur?_

_**Maybe when we have a moment to ourselves and I can kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of for weeks.**_

_Have you now?_

_**Most definitely. I might start of slow, but I know how much you like that thing I do with my tongue.**_

_I really do._

_**I’ll probably suck on your neck. Maybe nibble your ear. And then…**_

_What else?_

_…_

_…_

_Hermione?_

_…_

_…_

_Sod it all, woman, that’s twice now!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the journalling between D&H :) The gang will be back together next chapter for their second Game Night of the year as the end of October approaches. I hope this week has been behaving for everyone! Thanks for reading and commenting - I truly appreciate each and every one of you! <3


	23. Boo to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The housemates are gathered together again, and plans for a fun weekend unfold.

Honeyduke’s had gone all out with their Halloween-themed selection of treats, and Neville and Draco had a difficult time choosing for their friends and their upcoming Game Night. Once again, the two wizards were in charge of snacks for Saturday night and they wanted an impressive spread.

Finally, they settled on an assortment of holiday items: marshmallow ghosts that gave tiny little shrieks when you bit into them, licorice bats that flapped their wings, bonbons that looked like mini jack-o-lanterns and were filled with pumpkin spice cream, and gummy eyeballs filled with strawberry syrup. They also picked up a large box of the caramels everyone raved about last time, and two-dozen candy apples.

The bakery provided them with a large tray of biscuits iced in a variety of flavors, two blackberry crumbles, and a chocolate gateau that had Draco almost drooling as he watched the witch behind the counter box it up. They ordered two more cases of pumpkin juice and butterbeer, but still had more than enough mead and fire whiskey left over from September.

All of this was stored once again in Draco’s staff quarters and he couldn’t help grinning at it anytime it caught his eye. He was counting the hours till Hermione would arrive; she had said she’d floo in as soon as she handed in her last bit of work, which hopefully meant she’d be there right around the time his final class ended. He could hardly wait, and was so caught up in his thoughts about his favorite witch, that he collided with a warm body as he careened around the corner, leaving the Great Hall after lunch.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I… _Hermione_?” It took a second for him to register the shoulders he’d reached out to steady belonged to the very person he’d been daydreaming about.

She giggled and smirked at him impishly, “Might want to watch where you’re going there, Coach.”

He pulled her in for a suffocating hug, thoroughly surprised but incredibly pleased to see her, “What are you doing here so early?” His voice was muffled by her curls, and hers even more so by his entire body being wrapped around her. He pulled back enough for her to answer better.

“I told you, I was going to turn in my statistics report and head out,” she beamed.

“I guess I just assumed that meant the end of your work day,” he admitted, grinning madly back at her until reality snuck up on him. “I have two more classes, though, so,” but she cut him off.

“No, you don’t.”

“I don’t what?”

“You don’t have two more classes.”

“Yes, I do, it’s the Second Years and,”

“Nope. You’re skiving off,” the mischievous glint in her eye unfurled a coil of heat in his chest and he cocked his head in question.

“What are you on about?”

“I asked Bill if you could skip the rest of the day and he said that would be fine since they were just taking tests and turning in their essays,” she looked inordinately pleased with herself.

“Oh, you did, did you?” he smirked, tightening his hold around her once again and leaning in to whisper, “And just what am I going to spend the extra hours doing, then?”

“I believe something was mentioned about testing anti-wrinkle properties…” her words turned into a tiny yelp and a peal of laughter as he grabbed her by the hand and tugged her in the direction of his apartment as quickly as he could without actually running through the corridors.

ooOoo

A few hours later, Draco and Hermione arrived at the Room, having enjoyed a bit of time to themselves where much snogging, a good deal of talking, and some peaceful moments spent in each other’s arms passed the minutes rather quickly. Eager to see all their friends, they were some of the first to arrive, though Neville had managed to get there before them, and Daphne was strolling down the hall just as they opened the door.

“Hey!” the pretty blonde greeted them with a wide smile, “I wondered who’d be here already!” She gave all three of her former housemates a hug and looked around the vast space with a contented sigh, “I just love coming back here.”

“Me, too,” Hermione agreed readily. “How’s the shop going? And your latest designs?” As the two witches launched into animated discussion, they made their way to their rooms, leaving Draco and Neville standing where they’d left them.

“Well, guess I’m on my own again,” the tall blonde huffed, not really minding in the least, since he’d just spent the afternoon with his favorite girl, and Neville snorted in understanding.

“Hannah’s like that, too. When we’re alone, we talk for hours and never get tired of each other’s company. But when other people are around? I garner as much interest as an oak tree.”

Draco laughed outright, “They just know we’ll always be here when they come back, I suppose.” The former Gryffindor grunted in response, but the grin that spread across his face belied any real annoyance.

Just then, the door opened again bringing Theo, Luna, Dean, and Anthony over the threshold.

“Hello!” Luna trilled happily, floating over and kissing the two Hogwarts staff members on the cheek before making a beeline for Daphne and Hermione who were visible in the latter’s room.

The men exchanged handshakes and back slaps as they greeted one another, immediately jumping into the standard conversation of what each of them had been up to over the last month.

“Still enjoying the Archives?” Draco asked Anthony, who grinned and nodded, but before he could say anything else, Dean piped up.

“Ask him _why_ he enjoys it so much,” the cheeky smirk on Dean’s face led the other wizards to peer questioningly at the studious former Ravenclaw.

A blush was creeping up Anthony’s neck as he shrugged and tried to deflect their attention, but none of them were having it so he gave in, “They just hired a new Records Keeper, so I’m not the only one under the age of fifty working down there anymore.” If he thought that answer was going to quash their curiosity, he was sorely mistaken.

“Ah, and I’m sure this new coworker is a paunchy, balding wizard, right?” Theo teased.

“Not quite,” Dean crowed with obvious glee, “If you don’t tell them, I will,” he taunted Anthony whose face was now roughly the color of a radish. He dropped his gaze to the floor and mumbled something they couldn’t make out.

“Say again?” Neville prodded and all four of the interrogating wizards stepped closer, leaving no possible escape route.

Anthony sighed and raised his chin, but not before closing his eyes as he spoke in a barely-audible tone, “Tracey Davis.”

Hoots and whistles filled the air as a sheepish grin broke out on Anthony’s face. Tracey had been a Slytherin in the same year as Draco and his friends. She was much less dramatic than Pansy and Millicent, shyer than Daphne, but very sweet and an exceptionally good student. Her family had fled Britain at the end of Sixth Year, and had only just returned during the summer. After sitting her N.E.W.T.s, she applied for a job at the Ministry, and was hired at the end of September.

Anthony explained all of this to his rapt audience, having gotten over his embarrassment from being put on the spot like that, and was obviously quite taken with the young woman.

“That just leaves you, Dean,” Theo elbowed the outgoing Magical Games and Sports employee whose eyebrows rose in alarm.

“What d’you mean?” the dark-skinned wizard asked.

“You’re the only single bloke left in our group. We need to match you up!” Neville chimed in.

“And force me to give up my freedom? My chance to play the field? Nah,” he shook his head comically, “I like being able to dance with whoever I want at the Leaky on Friday, and then go out with someone new on Saturday.” He smirked at his friends, “You lot might enjoy being tied down, but I’m not quite ready for that yet.”

His comment brought a mild uproar from Draco, Neville, and Theo, who were all in established relationships, but Anthony protested the idea that he was serious with Tracey yet. Much genial fun was poked at one another over the next little while as they all dropped their bags in their rooms and settled into the couches and chairs in front of the fireplace. At some point along the way, Padma and Hannah both arrived, hollered salutations from the entry, and then bustled off to find the other witches. In no time at all, the Room was filled with the happy sounds of friendly chatter and unpacking, almost as if they had never left.

ooOoo

Dinner on Friday night brought the ten former housemates together around the long wooden table, where a veritable feast had appeared. It seemed the Hogwarts Kitchen Elves pulled out all the stops whenever this handful of graduates returned to the castle, and their efforts were greatly appreciated. After multiple helpings of the delicious offerings, and lengthy discussions about everything and nothing, the group decided a late-night walk on the grounds was in order.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to do this?” Hannah whispered as they made their way quietly through the silent corridors, down to the Entrance Hall.

“Why not?” Draco asked, “Neville and I are staff members, the rest of you are adults, not students.”

“It just feels like we’re breaking the rules,” giggled Padma and several heads nodded in agreement.

“Did you never break any rules when you were here?” Theo asked, incredulous.

Padma had to think about that for several seconds before admitting, “Honestly? No, I don’t think I did. Maybe I was late for curfew a few times, but that’s about it. And it wasn’t on purpose anyway.”

“Me neither,” added Hannah with a shrug.

“I was a pretty staunch rule-follower myself,” Anthony divulged.

“The only rule I ever broke up until Seventh Year was the night I got locked out of Gryffindor Tower and wound up having to follow you, Harry, and Ron, and we found that horrible, three-headed dog,” Neville nodded at Hermione, still sounding put-out by that entire situation, which apparently not everyone in their party knew about.

“What are you on about?” Theo asked in obvious disbelief.

“You didn’t hear about Fluffy?” Dean replied, having gotten the full scoop from three of his four roommates at the time.

“Fluffy?” Daphne’s voice was higher than usual, “There’s a three-headed dog here in the castle and it’s name _Fluffy_?”

“Oh, it’s not here anymore,” Hermione rushed to reassure her, “At least…I don’t think it is.” She realized she had absolutely no idea what Hagrid had done with the musically-inclined beast after the whole saving-of-the-stone-and-Harry-almost-dying bit.

She and Neville tag-teamed the story in hushed voices as they continued their trek to the front doors. In a way, it was like telling a ghost story while walking through a haunted house and she couldn’t help the giggles that occasionally escaped. Eventually, they reached the large oaken threshold and pushed out into the cold night air.

In unspoken agreement, they immediately started wandering towards the Forbidden Forest, everyone now talking in louder, more confident voices since they’d left the confines of the curfewed halls. The moon was bright and provided more than enough light for them to still clearly make out their surroundings and each other’s faces.They came to the edge of the ancient wood and paused as Dean tossed a question out.

“Aside from the few Care of Magical Creatures classes that required us to enter, how many of you came into the forest otherwise?” his dark eyes were sparkling with curious amusement as he took in the group around him. Hermione, Neville, Draco, and Luna all immediately raised their hands, and Dean did as well. Slowly, Hannah raised hers with a sheepish look on her face and Neville’s cheeks flushed in response.

“Explanations, right now!” Theo demanded and everyone laughed as the young couple continued to attempt a silent conversation between themselves.

Rolling his eyes, Neville smirked and said, “I brought Hannah on a picnic out here last year, right when we first got together. It became one of our favorite spots.” He didn’t say anymore, but the bright pink patches on the pretty Hufflepuff’s cheeks explained the rest anyway. Good natured whistles and teasing comments followed, and Neville slung his arm around his girlfriend with a grin on his face as he shrugged.

“Alright, what about the rest of you?” Padma insisted, “Why were the five of you out here?”

“Well, we,” Hermione gestured to herself, Neville and Draco, “Had detention out here after we found Fluffy the first time. I was out here three other times, as well. Once to meet Hagrid’s brother, Grawp, once to find the Thestrals, and once to lure Umbridge.” She said it with such astounding matter-of-fact-ness, like none of these instances were any more exciting or unusual than a stroll around the lake, and silence reigned for several seconds while her friends gaped at her.

“I think this requires a bit more information,” Anthony piped up and everyone else agreed.

“I can help with the Thestral story,” Luna offered and Theo marveled at the witch tucked into his side, “We came to find the herd so we could fly to the Ministry with Harry, to try and save Sirius.” Her voice got quieter at the end, and everyone took a moment to consider the man wrongfully imprisoned for so many years, and remembered he was Harry’s godfather.

“I was part of that one, too,” agreed Neville.

Hermione then launched into the tales of her introduction to Hagrid’s half-sibling, and then her plot against the woman they all despised. At the end, her audience was staring at her with a mixture of impressed awe and more than a little fear.

“You literally tricked Umbridge into following you into the woods, where you hoped you’d run across a random, dangerous creature to pawn her off on?” Theo did know if he should be horrified or star-struck. Perhaps a bit of both.

Draco smirked and wrapped his arm around the petite brunette, placed a kiss on top of her curls and snarked, “She’d have made a decent Slytherin, yeah?”

Everyone chuckled and Dean waved them towards the shadowed path, requesting they follow him to see if the spot he picked for the bonfire the next night would be alright.

“Wait, you raised your hand, too,” Padma recalled, “When did you come out here?”

Dean shrugged, “Oh, Seamus and I used to come out here to smoke all the time Fifth and Sixth Year.” He grinned around at them all, “Not nearly as exciting or dangerous as what the others got up to.”

Following the barely-visible path, the group reached a large clearing that their fearless game-planner had thought would be an ideal spot. They all agreed wholeheartedly and decided to set about gathering the stones to make the circle and a substantial pile of fallen tree limbs to burn. To any onlooker, the sight of sizeable rocks, branches, and twigs flying through the air to their intended destination might have seemed like some sort of medieval barn-raising, but in no time, the stage was set for their upcoming event and everyone was rather pleased with the end result.

While Dean and instructed Padma and Daphne on where to make the circle, Hermione had been collecting stumps to use for seating, along with the blankets they planned to bring. Draco, Hannah, and Theo had been assisting her with that, and Luna had convinced Neville and Anthony to help her create a sort of arbor with vines and leafy boughs, which she insisted would draw Fairies and Fireflies into the clearing, adding extra light to the festivities.

Once the bustling of activity slowly died down, everyone stood back to admire their efforts, and determined it to be a job well done. They were excited to bring their young friends on Sunday evening, all of them having agreed to stay a little later than they had the previous month, so as to enjoy this special event. That done, the group of former housemates strolled back up to the castle the way they’d come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! I hope you all were able to enjoy at least part of the weekend in some way. My anal-retentive side is struggling again with the fact that the timeline of this story doesn't match up with the calendar I'm currently living, but it's fine. This is fine. Writing about Halloween in almost-July is completely acceptable. The time the ten alumni are able to spend all together are a way for me to update certain moments and events in their lives, and for them to share stories of their younger years. There will be more examples of that coming up, as well. I'm also ridiculously excited about the next chapter and all the Muggle details that will be incorporated in their costumes and the game Dean has chosen :) Thank you so much for reading!! <3


	24. Unmasked Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second Game Night of the year is underway, complete with a still-classic form of entertainment.

The ten alumni spent most of Saturday, once they’d all finally rolled out of bed, lounging around the common area, enjoying one another’s company and reveling in the fact that none of them had anywhere to be or any expectations looming over them. While all of them were quite content with their jobs and the current state of their lives, having down time like this was still a bit of a novelty; one they all appreciated greatly.

“I often have to cover events on the weekends, even though I’m expected in the office during normal work hours five days a week,” Padma was explaining, “I don’t mind it exactly, but I don’t feel like I can request any time off in compensation yet, since I’m still just in training. She shrugged and a small frown darkened her features, “And then, the weekends I’m not working, my mother expects me to entertain Parvati, who still has no desire to go anywhere or do anything.”

“Has she not improved at all over the months?” Hermione asked, remembering how upset the other twin had been at Harry’s New Year’s party.

Padma shrugged and shook her head, “Not really. She’s been going to a mind healer for weekly appointments, but only because my parents make her. She told me it’s not worth it and that it’s not helping. Part of me thinks that’s because she’s not _letting_ it help, but then I feel awful for being like that.”

“Does she have any sort of job or hobby? Does she volunteer anywhere? Any activities that might help take the focus off her unhappiness?” Hannah offered kindly.

Padma vehemently shook her head this time, “Oh, no, absolutely not. My mother insists Parvati is too fragile for work, and never lets her go out by herself. That’s why I’m on sister duty on the weekends; my mother never went back to work after the war and spends every Monday through Friday doing things for my sister, which I don’t think is helping things, either.” She sighed deeply, “I truly believe if Parvati got out of the house more regularly, and started doing something – _anything_ – that it would help restore some sense of normalcy for her. But she’s so negative about everything, and my parents worry so much, I’m fighting a losing battle right now.”

“Lots of places take volunteers,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “St. Mungo’s, for sure, but there are several other organizations that have popped up in the last few years, too. There’s a magical children’s home in Shropshire, and another in Wales. There are at least two donation centers in the London area where witches and wizards can go for assistance, and they’re always looking for help with the steady stream of objects coming in. And there’s a fairly new office in Diagon that sends caregivers to the homes of elderly or infirmed individuals who need help during the day.”

As she described the last option, Padma perked up and she seemed to be particularly interested in that one, “What’s that one called? The caregiver one?”

“Enchanted Assistance. It’s right next to Flourish and Blotts.”

Padma considered this for a moment, “I’m going to make an appointment for us to check it out next weekend. I’m not even going to tell her where we’re going, and I’m not going to let her back out. I think helping others could be the best thing for her right now.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Dean chimed in, “Sometimes, seeing that someone else is just as bad off, or worse even, than ourselves can help put things in perspective.”

Several heads nodded in understanding and agreement as Luna spoke up, “I know she lost her best friend, and that’s something she’ll carry with her forever, but I don’t think Lavender would want her to be so unhappy for the rest of her life. There’s a difference between grieving the loss of someone, and letting grief consume you.”

“Exactly,” Padma nodded firmly, “And I think the latter is getting a firmer grip on her as each day goes by. Time for a change of direction, even if she hates me for it, yeah?” She gave a wry chuckle, but her friends could see the real worry behind her statement and rushed to reassure her that it wouldn’t come to that. She accepted their encouraging words and insisted they turn the topic to something happier, promising she’d keep them all posted on the outcome of her plan.

ooOoo

After a light supper, which Hermione had requested and been glared at for by the Kitchen Elves, everyone scuttled off to their rooms to get ready for the Halloween-themed Game Night that was about to commence. Draco and Neville laid out their spectacular array of treats, flanked on each end by large pumpkins they’d carved themselves. Buckets of ice housed the drinks, and the delectable looking cake served as the centerpiece. The housemates had decided that instead of more decorations, which they didn’t really need, that each of them were to bring a favorite treat or trick from their childhood, which they would share during the game. They had also stuck with the idea of simple costumes – something easily worn on their head or face, instead of full-body outfits. While they had definitely all stayed minimal in their choices, unbeknownst to either group, both the witches and wizards had expanded their wardrobes slightly.

Since their September Game Night, owls had flown between the five witches, and Daphne had taken the helm with regards to their outfits. Early on, they agreed to coordinate and go with a specific theme, asking Hermione for input on popular Muggle costumes for girls. When she mentioned the idea of Disney princesses, Daphne had taken the idea and run with it. Oliver had brought her a book after a recent conversation about that very topic; apparently his younger sister had been quite enamored with the fictional characters when she was younger and had an extensive collection of related items even now that she was older. The young designer had been enthralled with the beautifully illustrated story book that housed tales of all the popular princesses at the time: Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Ariel, Jasmine, Belle, and Pocahontas. She’d asked the other four witches to let her create accessories they could wear, and only requested they each bring a blouse or jumper in a specific color.

Having done so accordingly, they now all gathered in Daphne’s chamber awaiting further instruction and the unveiling of her finished pieces. Hannah was wearing a royal blue t-shirt that after a quick bit of magic became something shiny and satiny with puffed sleeves. A red headband with a large matching bow, and a gold necklace bearing a coin-sized apple pendant finished her look as Snow White. Padma had on an aqua sleeveless top that Daphne altered so the straps widened and slid off her shoulders. A matching headband with a gold applique in the center, and a wide gold necklace perfected her appearance as Jasmine. Luna, it was decided, would be Ariel. Her flowy purple top was already perfect; Daphne simply charmed it to look like it had a pattern of opalescent scales. She also turned Luna’s long blonde locks into a bright red, almost the same shade as Hannah’s apple, and set a pale pink starfish clip in her hair. Hermione had been asked to wear yellow, and her jumper was quickly transfigured into a silky top with short sleeves that hung off her shoulders similar to Padma’s. The sides of her hair had been twisted back and held with a red, fabric rose that Daphne had made, and her Belle costume was complete.

The girls _ooohed_ and _ahhhed_ at each other in turn as one by one their transformations were done, comparing the images in the story book to the artistic take on it their resident fashion expert came up with. Everyone was equally impressed and pleased with the results, and wondered aloud what Daphne herself had decided on.

“Well,” the elegant Pureblood blushed and gave her friends a sheepish grin, “Oliver said he thinks I look like Sleeping Beauty, so…” she waved her wand and the rose-colored blouse she’d been wearing became a slightly dressier version, with a wider neckline done in a pale shade of pink. Her long blonde hair was held back with a wide gold ribbon, and a delicate gold necklace balanced the look. The other witches squealed in delight and Hannah demanded they take some pictures before venturing out to the common area and meeting up with the boys.

Speaking of the wizards across the way, they had also decided to coordinate their costumes and Neville had been the one to commandeer that ship. Similarly to Daphne, the herbologist-in-training had recently been introduced to a particular form of Muggle entertainment: superheroes. During a visit with Hannah’s family a few months back, the young couple had ventured into a non-magical section of London where a massive bookstore was located. The half-blood witch’s younger brother made an off-hand comment about his love of comic books, thus peaking Neville’s interest in the topic. He’d left the store with an armload of the brightly illustrated magazines and spent a good portion of his summer immersing himself in the world of cosmic battles and cape-wearing defenders of justice. As the date for the Halloween-themed Game Night approached, he tossed an idea out to the other blokes, and was met with agreeable excitement.

The sight that met the witches’ eyes as they emerged from Daphne’s room was one of mild intrigue. Each of the wizards were dressed fairly normally, though all of them had button-down shirts on, which was unusual, especially for Dean and Anthony, who typically wore henleys or something more casual. They also were each wearing a mask of a different color: Dean’s was red, Anthony’s was green, Draco’s black, Theo’s was blue, and Neville’s silver. Even more interesting was the fact that they were standing, side by side in a straight line, their feet planted shoulder-width apart, their hands fisted on their waists, and their faces giving nothing away in terms of expression.

As the girls approached, Neville cleared his throat, which turned out to be a signal of some sort, and in unison each young man grabbed the placket of his own shirt with both hands, wrenching it open to reveal a t-shirt underneath that corresponded with his mask. Logos for Spiderman, Green Lantern, Batman, Captain America, and Thor were visible on the chest of each wizard, as all of them turned their heads to the right, chins raised in exaggerated pride, causing their female audience to burst into giggles.

“They’re superheroes!” Hermione exclaimed, and though Hannah knew exactly what she meant, the other three looked quizzically at her. Before she could begin to explain, however, the boys had relaxed their poses and approached with satisfied grins.

“What’dya think?” Dean asked.

“Good, huh?” Neville piped up.

“I’m Batman,” Draco deadpanned in a deep voice and Hermione couldn’t help laughing as she popped up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

Costumes were properly admired and explained for the next several minutes before everyone turned their attention to the table full of snacks. Piling their plates high with all sorts of goodies, they made their way to the space in front of the fireplace, where Dean had arranged the couches and chairs around the enlarged coffee table. A game board was laid out with six dice, a couple of booklets, and several pieces of paper. As the group settled into their seats, he waved his wand and made the board and dice slightly larger as well, so everyone could see more easily. Dean was always energetic and loved to play games, but the gleam in his eye was even more enthusiastic than usual as he perched himself on the edge of a chair and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Alright you lot,” he began with a wide grin, “I’ve held off on this one because I wanted to make sure you were truly committed to keeping our Game Nights going, and because I needed to see how well you worked together, since some of you will need to partner up.” He gestured to the set up before him, “This is one of my absolute favorite games, has been since I was about nine years old and my cousin introduced me to it. Even after I came to Hogwarts, I’d still get together with my primary school friends in the summers to play.”

“What _is_ it?” Theo asked in exasperation, clearly wanting to get things moving along.

Dean brandished a box from under the table, “Dungeons and Dragons!”

Three second of silence met his announcement before Anthony asked, “This is a Muggle game?”

“Yes,” Dean nodded firmly.

“Muggles have a game dedicated to dragons?” Draco couldn’t hide his curiosity.

“Yup,” the dark-skinned wizard smirked, “There’s wizards and magic and battles and,” but Theo cut him off.

“No way!” the lanky brunette countered, “They made a board game with all that stuff, not even knowing about the magical world?”

“Lots of Muggles love the idea of magic,” Hermione interjected, “They just don’t realize it actually exists, so they build upon what they think it might be like.” She shrugged, “It’s in all sort of stories; books and movies,” she waved her hand at the costumes everyone was wearing, “Fairytales, superheroes, all of that is beyond the realm of reality to them, so in a way it’s all magical.”

“So, how do you play?” Hannah asked.

“I’ll tell you,” Dean grinned and immediately launched into a lengthy but very interesting description of the game and all the intricacies involved. He showed them a book, complete with illustrations, and explained all about building characters and going on quests. Over a quarter-hour passed with everyone listening in rapt attention. Upon conclusion, Theo clapped his hands together.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s get this Cellars and Lizards game going.”

“Dungeons and Dragons,” Padma huffed in irritation, but Theo’s smirk showed he’d just been joking and knew exactly what it was called.

It was decided that four pairs would be made, and two individual players would remain. Dean, since he was the most familiar with the game, was obviously going to keep to himself. Both Anthony and Draco were willing to take the other solo spot, so a dice was rolled and it went to the former Ravenclaw. There was a brief discussion about whether or not couples would make good partners for such an endeavor, and in the end, Theo and Luna decided to remain a pair, but Hermione teamed up with Daphne, and Draco with Neville. Hannah and Padma made up the last team, and with that, they were ready to go.

Hours passed and it was slow going at first; getting everyone’s characters customized, explaining the many rules, powers, restrictions, objectives, and tasks, with multiple pauses for questions and tangents about the game designers’ perceptions of the magical world.

“So, in this game, you can basically do all the same things we can do, but they’ve just got different names or titles,” Hannah summarized after Dean finished giving them the rundown of the eight different schools of magic described in the game.

“Yes,” Dean nodded, “and certain characters have specific abilities, instead of everyone having them all.”

“It’s interesting that they think you can draw magical power from nature,” Luna mused.

“Yeah, and that you can lose levels of power in different circumstances,” added Anthony.

“I don’t think Trelawney would be any better at Divination in this game than she is in real life,” Theo snorted, causing all of them to chuckle at the unfortunately true statement.

Once everything had been satisfactorily covered, the game officially began. The former Gryffindor had warned his housemates that this was not a quick game, but one that would require thought and tenacity. He was secretly elated at how excited they all seemed to be, and how involved they were getting with his favorite non-sport hobby. The group was so deep in discussion and consideration of their characters’ explorations, interactions, and combats, that they didn’t even notice the door to the Room open, or the two visitors who’d arrived.

“Is this the sort of greeting I should come to expect?” Bill asked in mock indignation and both he and his very pregnant wife snickered at the shocked faces of the young adults once their presence was finally realized.

“Bill! Fleur!” Hermione squealed and everyone jumped to their feet in a chorus of greetings and happy exclamations. Hugs and handshakes and a smattering of genial questions filled the next several minutes as the eight who did not live in the castle briefly caught up with them. The professor and his wife were invited to sit and join them, but they declined with a promise to join them at the bonfire the next evening.

“We ‘ave just returned from a lovely dinner at ze new café in ‘Ogsmeade,” Fleur explained, “And I’m quite ready for bed!” The beautiful witch was even more radiant than usual, though the lines around her eyes and the slight swelling of her fingers indicated that the end of this pregnancy was taking a bit of a toll on her.

“Oh, yes, you must come tomorrow,” Luna nodded vehemently, “I’m sure the Fairies will be out in full force, and that’s always a wonderful blessing for an expectant mother.”

“You are too sweet,” Fleur smoothed a hand down the younger woman’s currently-red hair and smiled.

“We’ll definitely be there. We just wanted to pop in and say hello and see how everyone was doing,” Bill nodded at the game, “I can see you’re all heavily invested, so we’ll take our leave.” Goodbyes were hollered, the ten friends settled back down and picked up where they’d left off, and the Weasley’s made their way to the door, though not before Fleur filled a plate with desserts to take with her. Reminded of their snacks, Hermione hopped up and grabbed a bag from a nearby chair where she'd tossed it earlier. Reaching in, she grabbed several individually wrapped objects - balls of some sort - and tossed one to each of her friends.

"What's this then?" Draco asked as he caught the plastic-wrapped treat.

"A popcorn ball," Hermione explained, "My parents, being dentists, were largely averse to handing out candy even on Halloween, so they typically resorted to these." 

"Are you supposed to eat it? Or kill someone with it?" Theo asked, trying to bite into the tightly-packed sphere.

"Yeah, I'm surprised teeth healers would give out something that might actually break a tooth!" Daphne teased as she too attempted to eat it.

"It is rather sweet, though," announced Luna, who was licking the outside of hers, like some sort of gigantic sucker without a stick.

"This was your favorite Halloween treat as a kid?" Theo's brow arched in challenge, as if he couldn't believe anyone would favor such a thing.

"Well, it's something I've always associated with the holiday," Hermione mused, "Though I've probably only ever eaten one in my life."

"What did you do with the rest?" Padma was curious.

"Oh, I'd wrap a string around them and hang them from a tree in the back garden for the birds to pick at," the curly-haired witch grinned, earning good-natured groans and chuckles from everyone else.

"Alright, well, after that completely unsatisfactory offering, here's mine," Theo snarked, though Hermione knew better than to take offense, as he stretched behind him to reach a paper sack. "These were my absolute favorite, and Sugarplum's only sold them the very last week of October every year, so if I didn't get there in time, I had to wait a whole twelve months." As he spoke, he handed a small round box to each housemate; thick purple cardboard, tied with a narrow black ribbon. The only marking on the top of the box was an ink sketch of a plum, indicative of the shop's name.

"Ooooh," Hannah was the first to open hers, revealing five small, square, flat-topped chocolates, each settled in it's own paper wrapper, and each sporting a tiny, detailed design: a white ghost, orange pumpkin, yellow quarter moon and stars, green snake, and purple cat. Everyone was admiring the artistry of the confections when Theo interrupted.

"Yes, yes, they're all very pretty, but they _taste_ amazing," he insisted, clearly wanting them to get on with it. He was right, of course. Each chocolate, dark and rich on the outside, was filled with a different substance: coconut cream, orange fluff, lemon curd, apple caramel, and raspberry gel. There was no question the delectable treats were of high quality and superb craftsmanship. 

"This is delicious," Daphne sighed around a bite of the coconut-filled one.

"It's probably a good thing they only make them once a year, otherwise I'd be getting a box, or ten, every week!" Anthony joked, his cheeks bulging.

Theo nodded with smug authority, "Precisely. Now you see why I was so determined to get there every year. During our time at school, I gave my House Elf money and specific instructions to buy several boxes and send them to me."

"Wait, you had these in our dorm every year?" Draco was immediately shocked and annoyed, "And you didn't share?"

"If I had shared with you, I'd have had to share with the other three. Do you really think Crabbe and Goyle would have fully appreciated the culinary masterpieces these are?" a sardonic brow was cocked, "Or that Blaise would have left me alone once he found out about them? He's got almost as bad of a sugar addiction as you do, not to mention the fact that you were a poncy git back then, and probably would have bullied me into handing over my whole stash!"

Draco grumbled and scowled while everyone else burst into laughter, knowing full well the truth behind Theo's words. His sour mood only lasted another minute or two, as they settled back into their game, continuing to share treats and tricks (Dean gave everyone galleon sized hand buzzers like the ones he used to prank his family and neighbors with). The hours ticked by as the fighters, clerics, rogue, ranger, and wizard strategized their way across the board, creating new memories and favorite moments along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my fabulous readers! Hope everyone's week is behaving itself. We are officially half-way through 2020 (praise Jesus) and I'm sincerely hoping the second half is kinder to all of us than the first. Thank you so much for joining me in my happy little bubble of magical nonsense. It's honestly my escape from reality and I'm not the least bit sorry about it. Lol.  
> If you are new to this story, welcome! Also, please know that it is a sequel and that while it will still (for the most part) make sense on its own, it would be rather helpful to read "A Thousand Words" first :)


	25. Stoking the Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weekend's fun continues, and the now-Second Years join in for a flaming good time.

The game carried on, long past the usual time frame, and much later into the night than they typically played, but no one wanted to quit. Eventually, after everyone had yawned at least twice and Neville had actually dozed off between turns, it was decided that they could pause the game and pick it back up the next time they got together. Dean promised to keep everything exactly the way it was, and took detailed notes about where everyone had left off at the end of their final turn. They all agreed that it was loads of fun, even though Theo was rather put out that it wasn’t an actual competition, and that he wasn’t going to have any bragging rights for winning.

“How do we even tally scores for it, then?” he’d whinged.

“We don’t have a winner for every game,” Hermione suggested, only to be met with an incredulous look.

“Are you mad? What’s the _point_ of it all then?”

Draco snorted and smirked at his fellow former-snake, “To have fun, mate.”

Theo rolled his eyes dramatically, “But winning _is_ fun!” On that note, everyone burst into laughter, more so because they were so overtired and everything was funny, but it was a nice way to end the night.

“I’ll leave a note for the Kitchen Elves, shall I?” Daphne asked the group at large and it was agreed that they would all have a lie-in, and meet around the table for an early lunch instead of breakfast as usual.

Draco walked Hermione to her door and pulled her in for a warm embrace as they stood on the threshold.

“I like being able to tell you goodnight in person,” he mumbled into her curls as she tucked herself into him as tightly as possible.

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, her eyes closing as she rested her cheek on his chest and listened to the familiar beat of his heart.

“And I like being able to see you first thing in the morning,” he added as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “Though it won’t exactly be first thing tomorrow, I suppose.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed again and a low rumble sounded from the tall blonde as he chuckled. He knew she was on the verge of falling asleep and gently disentangled himself from her so she could get ready for bed. She took one step away before turning and moving back, gazing up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I like being able to kiss you goodnight,” she whispered as she rose up and pressed her lips to his, fisting the front of his shirt in her hands and melting into him when he wrapped his arms around her again.

This time, it was he who agreed with “Mmhmm,” as he angled his head and deepened the kiss, earning himself a breathy sigh from his favorite witch. After a few seconds, he reluctantly pulled away, kissed her one more time, and gazed at her for a heartbeat or two before forcing himself to step back out the door.

 _Someday_ , he thought to himself as he walked across the common area back to his own chamber. Someday he would get to fall asleep next to her and wake up in the morning in the same spot. Someday, when his probation was over and his future was unencumbered by reparations from his past, when he was free to come and go as he pleased and didn’t have to have weekly check-ins from an Auror (not that he minded spending that time with Potter, but the fact that it was court-ordered still rankled).

He wondered, as he got into bed that night, what a future with Hermione might look like. He didn’t think she’d really want to live in the Manor, and if he was entirely honest, he didn’t particularly care for the idea either. It might be his birthright, but it no longer held the fond memories it used to, and he felt as if staying there kept him tethered to a period in his life he’d rather forget entirely. Maybe they would get a house of their own in the country, or even a flat in London. Perhaps both.

He snorted to himself and shook his head. He still had over a year and half left of his sentencing, so there was really no need to try to figure out things that were a long time coming, if ever. There was not the slightest doubt or hesitation in his mind that Hermione was the witch he wanted to marry, to spend every day of the rest of his life with. He knew she loved him, and they had talked vaguely of a future together, but he’d not posed any specific questions to her so far, partly because he needed to get beyond these restrictive years, and partly because he didn’t want her to feel like he was pressuring her for an answer to such a commitment when they’d only been together for a rather short time.

Picturing his favorite pair of warm brown eyes brought a smile to his face as he drifted off to sleep, allowing the future to worry about itself for the time being.

ooOoo

Sunday was lazy and slow and thoroughly enjoyable for the inhabitants of the Room as they lounged about, swapping stories over large mugs of strong coffee and enjoying their last moments together before the Second Years arrived. With Fall firmly upon them, the sun set quite early compared to the warmer months, so they were able to gather right after dinner in the Entrance Hall. As expected, their initial moments were filled with excited greetings and boisterous welcomes.

“It’s so good to see you!” Allison and Darla both squealed as they squished Hermione between them in a joint hug, while Malcolm stood nearby and waited his turn.

“I think you’ve gotten even taller,” the petite witch complimented the sandy-haired boy who blushed and grinned, obviously pleased with the observation.

The mentors stuck close to their young friends as the now much-larger group passed through the doors and down the sloping lawn.

“So, what exactly is a soo-more roast?” Olivia asked over the buzz of conversation.

“Well, I just learned that myself,” admitted Draco as he launched into a description of the upcoming activity, the students nearby hanging on his every word.

“And we just stick the marshmallows in the fire?” Aiden asked, his eyes wide.

“What do we eat it with?” Yasmine inquired in a soft voice.

“Your fingers, of course,” Dean hollered, then laughed at the wide-eyed expressions that met his pronouncement.

As they neared the edge of the Forbidden Forest, looks of apprehension began to spread across the faces of the younger witches and wizards. Though Hagrid remained the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, he rarely brought his classes into the woods these days, opting instead to display his subjects in a paddock much closer to his house, or even simply in a grassy spot near the Black Lake.

“We’re going in there?” Emmeline couldn’t quite hide the nervous tremor behind her words.

“Yes, but it’s perfectly safe,” Neville assured them all, “We were just out here two nights ago to set everything up, and it was calm and peaceful.” He smiled as he said this, meeting the gazes of several particularly worried-looking students.

“We’re not venturing too far in, anyway,” Dean added, “Just a short ways down the path.”

“And everyone can cast _Lumos_ to help light the way,” Hermione suggested.

Gathering their courage and putting on brave faces for their older counterparts, the Second Years lit their wands, squared their shoulders and marched in. The further they walked, the more they seemed to relax as they realized it really was just a forest and not some sort of haunted or dangerous place. In just a few minutes, they reached the clearing and a chorus of amazed gasps went up as the scene before them unfolded.

Dean had jogged ahead the last little bit, in order to light the bonfire. The flames were just beginning to grow and flicker up the pile of branches and twigs, casting a friendly glow around the entire encampment. To absolutely none of the housemates’ surprise, Luna’s predictions about the arbor drawing Fairies and Fireflies had come true, and the air above the clearing was filled with tiny, dancing lights, far too numerous to count.

Blankets were spread out, stumps claimed as seats, and the large hamper of supplies Anthony had levitated out at the tail end of their troupe was set down next to the collection of thin sticks they were going to use as skewers for the marshmallows. Dean hollered for everyone’s attention, so as to give a demonstration of the proper way to roast them.

“Alright you lot, here’s what you do,” he held up a stick and a single white puff, indicated the pointy end, which he then pierced the sugary snack with until it almost poked out the other end. He then approached the flames, still standing an arms’ length outside the circle, and held his speared mallow above the fire. “You want to rotate it, to get a nice, even toasting,” he advised and then nodded to Hermione who stepped up next to him.

“Once you’re done, you’ll need two graham crackers and a square of chocolate,” she held up those exact items. Then, placing one cracker flat on the palm of her left hand, she lay the chocolate on top, keeping the other cracker in her right hand. Dean announced his marshmallow was satisfactorily roasted, laid it on top of the chocolate square, and then Hermione covered it with the other cracker, sandwiching it all together as he pulled the skewer out.

Hermione held up the completed dessert for everyone to see and then turned to Christopher, who happened to be sitting closest to her, “Here, tell us what you think.” She handed the s’more to him and he grinned before taking a decent-sized bite. He chewed for a second or two before closing his eyes and letting out a small groan.

“This is amazing,” he mumbled around a second mouthful, causing everyone to snicker.

Everyone was invited to come get their supplies and attempt it on their own, and were reminded not to stand too close to the now-roaring fire. Within seconds, all of the Second Years were clamoring for twigs and marshmallows, and jostling for the “best spots” around the edge of the flames. The older crew were happy to let their charges go first and hung back, enjoying the sight of all of their mentees happily engaged in the activity.

Even though Draco saw Christopher and Olivia on a daily basis, they still stuck right by his side as they attempted their very first s’mores making. He was secretly pleased that they wanted to spend time with him, even though the novelty had worn off since the previous year.

“How did your Potions exam go?” he asked Christopher, knowing the Hufflepuff boy had been slightly worried about it in the days leading up to it.

Christopher shrugged, “I think it went okay. We had to make a batch of _Sleeping Draught_ , and mine was more of a lavender color, instead of the dark purple it’s supposed to be. But at least it wasn’t orange like Rory’s!” He chortled at the memory of his classmate’s failed potion and Draco couldn’t help but join in.

“And how about you, Olivia? Did you finish that Transfiguration essay?”

“Yes, Professor Clearwater said it was excellent before she’d even finished grading it,” the bubbly Gryffindor beamed.

“Fantastic,” Draco held up his hand and she high-fived him with a loud _smack_. “Don’t tell Professor Weasley I let this slip, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to introduce the Second Years to the _Tongue Tying Curse_ next week, and he’s planning to let you try it out on each other.” Two pairs of wide eyes met his confession, since most of their lessons consisted of bookwork and theory, not hands-on attempts. Those were reserved for older students.

“No way,” Christopher breathed.

“He’ll teach us the counter curse, too, right?” Olivia seemed wary of the idea.

“Absolutely,” Draco nodded firmly, “He’d never let any of you come to any harm. We’ve just been discussing a more practical approach to as many lessons as possible, since that’s really the best way to learn most of it.”

The two youngsters dove into an excited, though whispered conversation, not wanting to be overheard as they speculated what this might mean for their experience in the classroom that coming week. As a result, Draco was free to let his gaze roam around the fire, searching for a head of riotous curls, which he found about halfway around from where he was sitting. Hermione was sharing a blanket with her trio of Second Years, listening as they talked animatedly, with wild hand gestures and exaggerated expressions. She glanced his way and caught his eye, and surreptitiously held up one finger, indicating she’d come to him in a moment, and he nodded that he understood before making his way over to the basket of ingredients. Time to try this s’mores thing for himself.

He decided to just go all-in and speared two marshmallows on the end of his stick, and stepped closer to the roaring fire. The dancing flames and ascending embers were mesmerizing as he slowly rotated his skewered treat. Across the way, Theo yelped as his mallow caught fire and quickly became a charred and blackened lump, and Padma was complaining about how long it was taking, most likely because she was standing too far away for any real heat to reach her.

“This your first one?” Hermione appeared at his side, her hands full of crackers and chocolate, her own stick resting in the crook of her elbow, two marshmallows ready and waiting for their turn in the inferno.

“Yup,” Draco nodded at his lightly-toasted attempt, “Almost ready, I think.” He said it as a question, unsure just how brown he should let them get. His girlfriend peered appraisingly at his progress and agreed he just needed a tiny bit more.

Once the outsides had reached an acceptable level of crispy done-ness, the pair worked together to fashion their sweet sandwiches, saluting each other before taking a bite. Hermione’s eyes twinkled with glee as she watched her boyfriend – who had the biggest sweet-tooth she’d ever come across – close his eyes and hum in pure delight. It was so very reminiscent of the moment he’d tasted the cinnamon bread at her kitchen table, her heart skipped at the memory as she drank in his familiar features and couldn’t help but be incredibly thankful for how far they’d come and the road they’d traveled together over the last year.

“This is brilliant,” the tall blonde managed while still chewing, “Why didn’t you tell me about these sooner?” His look of outrage was drastically reduced by the licking of his fingers and the smudge of chocolate on his cheek. Giggling, she used her thumb to wipe it off and popped up to kiss the very same spot.

“I’m glad you like it. You should try just a marshmallow by itself. S’mores are great, but I could eat those by the bagful,” she produced a handful of the fluffy white snacks from her jacket pocket and held them out to him. Again, they each speared two and angled their sticks to hover above the flames.

“Looks like everyone is enjoying themselves,” Draco observed as he surveyed the crowd around them. Bill and Fleur had arrived at some point and were being given instructions by Neville, who accidentally dropped his entire skewer into the fire in the process. Chuckling, he turned to his favorite witch who was keeping an intense eye on their roasting progress. Her profile was lit by the glow of the flickering light, her whiskey colored eyes bright with happiness, a small smile curving her lips as her curls danced in the gentle breeze. His breath hitched as he considered for the millionth time it seemed, just how beautiful she was, how lucky he was to be there with her, and how very much he loved her.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple, “I love you,” he whispered.

She turned to him, eyes widening and smile growing, “I love you, too.” That her response was so immediate and genuine still sent his insides swooping and a familiar warmth filled him that he so often associated with his favorite witch. He didn’t think he could ever explain how much her acceptance of him, her trust in him, even the ease of her interactions with him, meant, though somehow he felt she understood anyway.

A small shriek from the petite witch drew his attention back to the present, where she was puffing quite vehemently over her marshmallows, which had caught fire when she wasn’t looking. It was just a small flame, no bigger than a birthday candle, and only the very top of the first mallow was burned before she put it out, the rest a nice, golden brown. He watched in mild confusion as she gently slid roughly half of the marshmallow off the stick, leaving its insides still on, and popped the slightly-crunchy confection in her mouth.

“Mmmm, heavenly,” she licked her lips and grinned, “Try it.” She nodded to his skewer and he lifted it from its spot over the heat, imitating her actions exactly. The toasted sugar was crispy on the outside, but melted on the inside, still warm, and even sweeter somehow than when eaten straight from the bag.

“Oooh, yes, I could eat and endless amount of these,” he agreed, immediately sliding the second one off and then considering the two semi-melted lumps that remained behind. “What do we do with these?”

In answer, Hermione stuck her twig back out over the fire, clearly intending to roast the mallow innards, and he followed suit. Several of the younger students nearby had watched the entire exchange and were now copying their movements and attempting their own double-roasting.

Once everyone had ingested a sufficient amount of sugar, they simply settled in to watch the fire and continue their time together. Dean entertained them all with a story involving a haunted castle, a brave knight, and a three-headed beast that had all the housemates laughing at the hidden correlation. Finally, as curfew approached, Bill announced it was time to head back to their dorms, and though much protesting and complaining took place, the youngsters obeyed good-naturedly and helped clean up before trudging back up to the school.

The ten alumni gathered their charges around them to say goodbye with an abundance of hugs and promises to write in the coming week. After that was done, they all hurried back to the Room to grab their belongings and make their way to the Headmistress’ office in order to floo home. McGonagall had scheduled their appointments just five minutes apart, since they were leaving so late, and in no time they were all crowded into her office, chattering away about the bonfire, their Game Night, and whatever else they recalled about their weekend, while the normally-stern witch listened with more than a little fondness etched across her aged features.

One by one, they bid the rest of the group farewell and disappeared in a flash of green, eventually leaving Neville, Hannah, Draco, and Hermione as the last to go. The latter was filling McGonagall in on the latest progress being made at the Ministry while the former shared a quiet moment before Hannah was whisked away.

“Right then,” Neville piped up from across the room, “I’m off. It was good to see you again, Hermione. Draco, we’ve got patrol tomorrow night, yeah?”

The pale blonde nodded and smirked, while Hermione bade her friend goodnight with a wave and a smile.

“Your turn,” Draco tilted his head towards the hearth and Hermione, after a last word with her favorite professor, followed him over.

“I’ll see you next month,” she said softly, entwining her fingers with his and gazing up at him with a mixture of sadness and joy.

“It’ll be here in no time,” he assured her and pulled her in for a full embrace, not caring one whit that his employer was sitting behind her desk, observing the entire exchange. He buried his face in her curls for a heartbeat or two before pulling back and placing a tender kiss on her lips. She beamed at him before turning and stepping into the flames, vanishing with a _whoosh_.

Draco remained there, staring at the spot where she’d disappeared and feeling like his heart might have gone with her. He wondered it if would ever get easier to say goodbye, and was contemplating this when a voice broke into his musings.

“I trust that you and Miss Granger are managing the distance between yourselves successfully?” McGonagall inquired gently as she took in the young man before her.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and approached her desk, smiling as he spoke, “Yes, we’ve done alright so far. We’ve got a pair of two-way journals that we use, plus owls, and seeing each other once a month definitely helps.” He shrugged, “The time apart goes by rather quickly, which makes it easier, too.”

The Headmistress smiled and nodded, “I’m pleased to hear it. I’ve also been very impressed with the reports Professor Weasley has been giving me on your work in his class. Your recent lesson involving the cursed objects sounded particularly interesting.”

Draco was mildly surprised by the praise, seeing as his former professor wasn’t known for giving compliments, but he was immensely pleased nonetheless. “Thank you, Professor. It’s been great - working with the Defense classes – and preparing lessons is something I’ve learned I truly enjoy.”

“Perhaps teaching will not just be a short-term endeavor for you,” the older witch suggested, watching his reaction closely.

“Perhaps not,” he agreed with a grin, “I’ve not really thought about next year at all, though I know I won’t be qualified for an actual position yet. I guess we’ll see what this year brings.” He shrugged and tried to decipher the knowing glint in the Headmistress’ eye. “I should be off, though. Early day tomorrow.”

“Of course,” she nodded, “Have a good evening Coach Malfoy.”

He couldn’t help the bark of surprised laughter that escaped at the use of his student-given title, though he shouldn’t have doubted the formidable witch’s knowledge of everything that took place within the stone walls of the ancient school.

“You, too, Professor,” he gave a small bow and strode out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

The Headmistress sat unmoving for several heartbeats after the young man left, remembering him as a child and marveling with deep contentment at how far he’d come since he’d first entered the castle. It was amazing, she thought to herself, what a little encouragement and belief in a person could do to turn things around. And, as Albus had always insisted, and of course he was right, _love_ could do the most of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Monday, another chapter. For my American friends, I hope you were able to enjoy the holiday weekend even with all the restrictions still in place! I love when the housemates are all together again, and I'm a massive fan of bonfires and s'mores, so I thought it would be fun to expose them to that :) Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me! Another chapter will be up on Thursday <3


	26. Family Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers come to London for a visit and spend some time with familiar faces.

The Grangers arrived in London the very last day of October, and stayed through most of the first week of November. Hermione was able to take two days off from work, so she could enjoy a long weekend with her parents, though they insisted they would be fine for the other two days on their own. Harry had arranged a permanent portkey for Edward and Jeanette, meaning they would always use the same gardening glove to travel back and forth, and that it would always bring them directly to Grimmauld whenever they held it for ten solid seconds. In between uses, it was tucked into the small mokeskin bag Hagrid had once given the Chosen One. This way, it could only be opened by the older couple, and no one else was in danger of being whisked off to another continent.

Their first day was rather low-key, what with dealing with the time difference and adjusting to the odd lingering sensations that often accompanied international portkey travel. Hermione had planned for this and decided they would simply spend the day in her current place of residence. She gave them a detailed tour, introducing them to Kreacher (who was fascinated to be meeting actual Muggles), Sirius (who grinned broadly and told several embarrassing stories about the Brightest Witch of the Age), and Roy (who could have cared less about the newcomers). She showed them every room, complete with a description of how it had looked before she and Harry set about redecorating, and even let them glimpse the cupboard of horrors where she’d found all the Elf heads.

Her parents were quite impressed with all the time and effort that had been put into making the ancient house a home, and were thrilled with the guest bedroom that had been prepared for them. It was the room Arthur and Molly used to occupy, and Hermione thought her parents would find the canopy bed, tall windows, and working fireplace to be quaint and even a bit romantic.

Speaking of romance, Jeanette asked her daughter several pointed questions about the house in relation to a certain platinum-haired young man. Upon request, Hermione showed her the front step, where they shared their first real kiss, and the rooftop where they’d danced the night away with their friends. Each time she spoke about Draco, there was a spark in her eye and a blush to her cheeks that Jeanette recognized all too well, and was 99.9% certain the polite and well-spoken wizard would be a permanent part of their family before too long. The thought made her smile as she remembered her early days with Edward and she wished nothing but happiness for them.

Kreacher had made a point to ask Hermione what kinds of things her parents liked to eat, and she had assured him they would enjoy whatever he chose to make; that they weren’t picky or hard to please. Even so, the wizened Elf outdid himself that night at dinner and the scrubbed surface of the table was barely visible under the numerous platters, tureens, trays, and bowls of piping hot food he laid before them.

Harry joined them of course, and the four spent an enjoyable evening catching up and talking about their plans for the days ahead. Edward was insistent upon visiting Diagon Alley, since it had been quite a while since their last trip, and he wanted to pick up some different treats for Orville. While that was the plan for Saturday, they set aside Sunday to surprise Draco at Hogwarts. Unbeknownst to the assistant professor, Hermione had arranged a floo time with the Headmistress so they could step through and spend the day on the grounds. She could hardly contain her excitement, and knew he had absolutely no idea they were coming. She only hoped he didn’t have any major plans or commitments, since she hadn’t wanted to pry overmuch and arouse suspicion.

Diagon was bustling with activity during the weekends, even when it wasn’t right before the start of a new school year. Witches and wizards roamed the cobblestone streets, arms laden with shopping bags and wrapped boxes, small children zig-zagged in between the adults, pointing at the window displays and clamoring for much-desired items. While some of the shops and businesses had been rebuilt since the war, not much had changed in the magical alleyway since the last time the Grangers had been.

“Oh, I would love to stop in Flourish and Blotts,” Jeanette said as the trio made their way down the busy path, “And perhaps Obscurus Books.”

“After we go to Eyelops,” Edward insisted, “And I also want to visit the Weasley’s store.”

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed, “Ron and George are expecting us to come in, and I thought we could do lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, if that’s alright with you both?”

“That sounds lovely,” Jeanette smiled at her daughter, feeling a rush of happiness over the fact that they were here, together, in the place where this journey began for all of them, and yet there was a pang of sadness for the years that had been lost. She had noticed the obvious reconstruction taking place in certain spots, and knew that this small corner of the Wizarding World had been dealt a devastating blow not very long ago. Refusing to dwell on morose thoughts, however, she turned her attention to the store Hermione was leading them into.

“Scribbulus?” Edward asked as he read the sign.

“Yes, I just want to grab a couple of new quills and an inkpot,” Hermione explained as they stepped into the small and crowded shop. Every inch of wall space was covered with shelves, and those shelves housed the biggest variety of quills, inks, scrolls, journals, wax seals, and any other writing utensils one could think of within the confines of the magical realm. The petite witch selected her items after a few moments of deliberation, and approached the counter where a new display caught her eye.

“Are… are these Muggle pens?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes, they are, miss,” the clerk, an older gentleman with wire-rimmed spectacles similar to the ones Harry wore perched on the end of his nose, “Just got them in last week and they’ve already become quite popular. Fascinating how you don’t have to keep refilling them!”

“Yes, I’m quite fond of them myself,” she chuckled, “I keep telling my boss we need to introduce them to the department.” At this, the clerk took a longer, more intentional look at the young woman before him.

“Forgive me, miss, but you’re Hermione Granger, aren’t you?” his voice took on a tone of mild awe.

“Yes, that’s me,” she shrugged, indicating it wasn’t any big deal.

“Please, let me send a box of these to your office. A gift. A show of appreciation for all you did during the war,” the man’s eyes were now shining as he smiled at her and she couldn’t even begin to think of a way to refuse the kind gesture.

“I… Well, thank you… If you’re sure?” she stammered.

“Oh, absolutely,” he positively beamed at her before scurrying off to the back of the store, presumably to wrap up the aforementioned gift.

Throughout the whole interaction, the Grangers had stood by, watching in silent amazement. Hermione shot them an almost-apologetic look and opened her mouth to say something, but the man was back, pressing a large bag into her hands, and reaching over to the counter to collect her selected items, he placed them on top.

“Oh, but I haven’t paid yet,” she tried to tell him, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“And you aren’t going to,” he insisted, patting her on the arm, “It’s the least I could do.” He turned his attention at last to the couple hovering off to the side and looked quickly between them and Hermione before understanding dawned. “Is this your daughter?”

“Yes, yes she is,” Edward’s chest puffed out with pride and Jeanette nodded in agreement.

“You must be so very proud of her. Quite an amazing witch, she is,” the shopkeeper nodded firmly and waved his hand around, indicating the whole of the store, “Merlin knows what might have happened to this place, or my family, had Voldemort won. We will never not be thankful for what she and her young friends did.” He stepped forward and extended a hand to Jeanette, and then to Edward, who both shook it and thanked him for his kind words.

When they finally emerged from the stationary shop, a beat or two passed before Edward asked, “Does that happen often?”

Hermione thought about the question before answering, “It depends. At the Ministry, everyone is used to seeing me now, so it’s not a novelty. Same goes for places I frequent, like the Leaky, Flourish and Blotts, and even Madam Malkin’s. I can’t remember the last time I was in Scribbulus, but I know I’ve not met that man before, so it’s more common when it’s a first encounter.”

Her parents mulled this over as they made their way to the other locations on their list, stopping for lunch at the familiar tavern. There, they enjoyed steaming bowls of shepherd’s pie and warm mugs of butterbeer before setting off for their final destination; Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The bell over the door jingled as they entered, and a myriad of sounds assaulted their ears. Multiple patrons roamed about, but Hermione’s eyes immediately landed on a head of red hair, and that was the direction she herded her parents in.

“Hi, Ron!” she called out as they approached and he whipped around, his blue eyes going wide at the sight of her, a grin spreading across his friendly face.

“Hermione!” in two long strides he was there, engulfing her in a full-body embrace, “I’m so glad you’re here!” He stepped back and turned to her companions, offering Jeanette a slightly gentler hug, and shaking Edward’s hand with enthusiasm.

“So this is the famous joke shop?” the older gentleman’s eyes were round as saucers as they tried to take everything in. The bright colors, towering displays, moving parts, and stocked shelves were a lot to ingest, but it was incredibly impressive all the same. As Ron pointed out a nearby display of one of their newest products, George spotted them and quickly made his way over as well.

“Hello!” he hollered, “You must be Hermione’s parents.” He bowed to Jeanette, but called her _Edward_ , and shook Edward’s hand, but called him _Jeanette_ , earning a hearty laugh from both of them as they greeted him in turn.

“Welcome to my kingdom,” he gestured widely to the chaotic room, “As you can see, business is booming.”

“It seems like you have even more items than the last time I was here,” Hermione observed and the lanky red-head nodded vigorously.

“Too right. Fred and I had a bit of a brainstorm about two weeks ago, thought a series of magical dioramas would be fun, and they’ve been vanishing off the shelves almost quicker than Ron and I can duplicate them.” He indicated a ceiling-high set of shelves, stocked with four-inch cubes in a variety of colors, with several open ones set out for customers to see. The sign nearby referred to them as “ _Serenity Scenes_.” Each box appeared to contain a very tiny, three-dimensional tableau, similar to what one might see in a snow globe, but the people, animals, creatures, or objects in each one moved about on their own.

“Look at this!” Hermione pointed at a purple box that contained a miniature forest, complete with grass on the ground and leaves on the trees that swayed to an invisible breeze. Every few seconds, a pure white unicorn would appear from behind a tree as it made its way around the diminutive space. Another creature, possibly an Elf or a Gnome, wandered through the enchanted wood as well, and every so often, tiny lights appeared among the leaves like Fairies or Fireflies.

“Ah, yes,” George nodded, “That’s one of our most popular ones. All of the purple ones contain the same landscape, just as all the blue ones do, and so on. They’re meant to give people something pleasant and calming to look at if they’re feeling a bit stressed.”

“What a fantastic idea,” Jeanette mused as she leaned closer to a green box that was open to display what was clearly a tiny potions laboratory. A fire flickered under a cauldron that appeared to bubble, while various miniscule bottles and flasks emptied and refilled themselves while they sat on the shelves. There was even a set of scales that tilted up and down, and a series of scribbles that appeared on a chalkboard behind the table.

“Thanks, it took a bit of tweaking to get the charms to work exactly the way I wanted them to, but overall,” but the shop’s proprietor was cut off by a complaint floating across the busy space.

“You can’t take all the credit!” Fred’s portrait crowed indignantly, “Whose idea was it in the first place? And who suggested the use of the _Repetitio Unitatum_ , hmm?”

George waved a hand as if dismissing his late twin, “Yes, yes, you’re the brilliant mastermind behind it all. Shall I have a plaque inscribed in your honor?”

To this, Fred simply crossed his arms and jutted his chin out, sniffing with disdain. The interaction garnered more than a little interest from the Grangers, who had met Sirius back at Grimmauld, but still weren’t entirely used to the concept of sentient portraits.

“So, that’s your brother?” Jeanette asked gently, not wanting to spoil the buoyant mood, but very curious about the magic behind such a phenomenon.

“Quite right,” the grinning jokester affirmed, “Come, I’ll introduce you. He’ll have to be polite since you’re not family.” They all snickered as they made their way over to the counter, which Ron was manning, and George explained who Hermione had brought with her that day. For the next several minutes, both parents engaged in jovial conversation with the young man in the frame, and a while later, upon leaving the store, marveled at how incredible it all was, and what an amazing thing for Draco to do for the Weasley family.

Hermione couldn’t help the pride that swelled up in her at the compliment towards her boyfriend. Yes, the creative and generous act of commissioning the portraits was very thoughtful, but it was the complete and utter change of heart he’d undergone that she was most admiring of. The once arrogant and selfish bully had turned into one of the kindest and most compassionate people she’d ever known, and it was one of the many things she loved about him.

ooOoo

Back at Grimmauld that evening, the three Grangers and Harry once again enjoyed a smorgasbord of offerings from Kreacher, who had clearly kept himself busy in the kitchen all day.

“This is quite possibly the best roast I’ve ever had,” Edward remarked, then catching himself, cast a sheepish glance at his wife, “Sorry, dear.”

“No, not at all,” Jeanette waved him off, “I agree! Do you think Kreacher would share his secret with me?”

Both Harry and Hermione bust out laughing at that, knowing that for starters, it was probably all magic and not some ancestral recipe, but also trying to imagine their floppy-eared housekeeper explaining how he did anything to anyone, much less a non-magical person.

“Sorry,” Harry wheezed, “Kreacher has come a long way since we first met him, but he’s still pretty rough around the edges. I once asked him how he made his treacle tart and you’d have thought I’d requested a detailed map to his family’s buried treasure.”

“It’s true,” Hermione nodded, “He’s much more open to learning new things than before. For example, he likes the telly and the gramophone now and uses them regularly, but sharing his own means and ways is a different story. I asked a completely innocent question about how long it took him to polish the chandelier and he was so offended he didn’t even look at me for three days.”

All four of them were chortling over this little story when the Elf in question popped into being at the edge of the table.

“Would Master Harry or Miss Hermione, or Miss Hermione’s guests like pudding here or in the drawing room?” his croaky voice held a recognizable hint of fondness that had become a regular part of the way he addressed the young residents of the Black family home and he even gave a tiny bow in the direction of the Grangers as he spoke.

“Oh, let’s do upstairs,” the petite witch suggested, “We can put on some music. Kreacher you are more than welcome to join us if you’d like.” Her offer was met with a few seconds of silence and some owlish blinking from the diminutive being and she could tell he was warring with propriety (which he’d always been trained to believe meant that servants were never equal to their masters and thus could not possibly join them for anything), and being included (something he’d done more often of late, spending part of his evening with the two best friends as they watched movies, listened to records, or simply sat and talked). She was positive his hesitation was rooted in the fact that they had guests, and he didn’t know how Edward and Jeanette would perceive his shrugging of the antiquated rules.

“We’d be very pleased to have you, especially after the magnificent supper you just served us,” Jeanette interjected kindly and that seemed to be enough to quell Kreacher’s fears. He nodded firmly, his bat-like ears flapping vigorously and addressed Hermione’s mother with another small bow.

“Kreacher would like that very much. Tea and pudding will be brought up shortly,” he stretched out his thin arm, indicating they should make their way to the second floor, “If you please.”

And that was how the evening was spent; with two Muggles, a famous wizard, a brilliant witch, and a curious House Elf enjoying steaming cups of tea and multiple bowls of Harry’s favorite dessert, swapping stories and sharing memories as if they’d all been friends their whole lives. Had Walburga’s portrait still been present, she would have been positively apoplectic with offended rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday, everyone! This was just a fun chapter in which the Grangers get to experience more of Hermione's life. In JKR's original works, it appears that they only ever really entered the magical world to help her prepare for the start of the school year (taking her to Diagon for supplies), and that was something they didn't even do every year. I wanted to give them more of a chance to see their daughter's world, and while their trip to Hogwarts and Hogsmeade in the previous story was the first step in that direction, their visits to her now will continue that :) Thanks so much for reading - I hope everyone is staying safe and doing well! <3


	27. The Best Kind of Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers surprise Draco with a visit to the castle and spend some quality time together.

First thing Sunday morning, while most of the students and staff were still enjoying a late breakfast in the Great Hall, Hermione and her parents were chatting with the Headmistress in her office over cups of tea and a tray of pastries. The elder witch was immensely pleased to see the Grangers again, fully restored and on solid footing with their daughter. She had been worried, though she’d never expressed it aloud, that there would be some hard feelings once everything came to light. Thankfully, Edward and Jeanette were able to see things from the dire perspective the decision to alter their lives was brought about by, and their relationship with their only child was stronger than ever.

“I’m quite certain you’ll find Mister Malfoy assisting Mister Longbottom in Greenhouse Three after breakfast. I know Professor Sprout asked for the new shipment of Aconite to be repotted and shared between three of the nurseries,” she offered towards the end of their conversation.

Hermione beamed, “I can’t wait to surprise him! Thank you so much for letting us do this, Professor.”

“You’re most welcome, my dear. I’m happy to have you and your parents visiting again,” McGonagall smiled and nodded to the middle-aged couple who were still gazing about the office with looks of mild awe on their faces. “I shall see you back here at seven o’clock this evening, then.”

“Yes, we’ll be here,” Hermione hopped up, eager to seek out her favorite wizard, “Ready?”

“As always,” Edward teased and he and his wife followed the petite witch out the door, down the stairs, and through the corridors until they reached the entrance to the greenhouse they sought.

Pulling the door open quietly, they peered in and could just make out the two young men at the far end, completely immersed in their task and their talk. So occupied were they, that they didn’t hear the door close, or three sets of footsteps approach across the earthen floor. It wasn’t until their unexpected company was right behind them, and Hermione cleared her throat, that they startled out of their singularly-focused world.

Neville was first to register them and greeted each with a wide smile, “Hello!” He held up his gloved and dirt-covered hands as explanation for why no hugs or handshakes were being given, though his cohort was much less quick on the draw.

Draco stood there gaping, his eyes flickering from his girlfriend to her parents in rapid succession. He even glanced about the greenhouse for a moment as if making sure he was where he thought he was, and that this wasn’t some sort of trick or dream or what have you. Once he determined it to all be exactly as it appeared, a brilliant grin spread across his handsome face and he rushed to remove his gloves and brush off his robes before pulling Hermione into a suffocating embrace.

“What are you _doing_ here?” he wondered, placing a quick kiss on the top of her head before releasing her and turning to greet her parents. “It’s so good to see you both,” he spoke sincerely, “I trust your portkey here on Friday went alright?”

“Oh yes, it was fine,” Jeanette waved her hand and smiled up at him. “No troubles at all.

“We’re getting quite used to magical travel,” Edward sniffed, “Makes me wonder if we’ll ever use the airlines again. Wastes the whole day.”

Draco chuckled and nodded. Hermione and Harry had told him about Muggle modes of transportation on several occasions, and the idea of waiting in a packed airport for hours, only to board a crowded plane for several more hours didn’t appeal to him in the slightest.

He wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and tucked her into his side while asking, “So, as pleased as I am to see you all, what exactly are you doing here?”

“We came to see you,” sparkling brown eyes gazed up at him with undiluted joy and he had to quash the massive urge to snog her senseless right there. His witch was too sweet for her own good and he was once again reminded how very lucky he was to have her in his life.

“Couldn’t come all the way back to the UK without visiting, now could we, son?” Edward teased, clapping him on the back and Draco felt a swell of emotion at the endearing term, not least of all because he knew the man spoke in earnest. He knew they were only here for a handful of days, and the fact that they had devoted an entire one to seeing him meant more than he could put into words. 

“Neville, we can help you finish up if you’d like,” Hermione turned her attention to her fellow Gryffindor, “My mom is a big fan of gardening, so I’m sure she’d love to see what you’re doing.” At this, Jeanette’s eyes lit up as she took a step forward and nodded.

“We’re almost done, so if you really don’t mind,” Neville stretched out his arm in an invitation for his new helpers to join him, and both women did, immediately donning gloves the friendly herbologist had conjured.

Draco turned to Edward, “Want to get your hands dirty, too?”

“Why not?” the genial man replied and in seconds, all five of the greenhouse’s inhabitants were busy filling pots with dirt and delicate flowering plants. When it was all said and done, the new containers were distributed between the requested buildings, supplies were put away, and the small group stepped out of the muggy enclosure to be greeted by the crisp November air and cloudy sky.

They paused for a moment and Neville addressed the Grangers, “It was nice to see you both again. Enjoy your visit!” He then gave Hermione a quick hug, “You too, even though I just saw you last week.” She giggled as he released her and turned to Draco, “I’ll let Christopher and Olivia know you’ll be in touch later on.”

The tall blonde nodded in affirmation, “Thanks, I appreciate it.” With one last grin and a wave of his hand, Neville took off in the direction of the castle, leaving the rest of them to determine their next course of action.

“I’m going to assume McGonagall knows about this?” Draco arched a brow at the curly-haired brunette by his side.

“Of course,” Hermione smirked.

“So, what would you like to do? Or where would you like to go?” he asked the Grangers.

“We could go down to the village,” Jeanette suggested, “We had such a lovely time last June, and I know I for one would like a chance to explore a little more.”

“Sounds good to me,” Draco entwined his fingers with Hermione’s and cocked his head towards the path that sloped down to the ancient hamlet, “Shall we?” and off they went.

ooOoo

Since it was not a Hogsmeade weekend for the students at Hogwarts, the sidewalks and shops weren’t the least bit crowded and they were able to take their time strolling the cobblestone street and browsing in the stores. The bakery was new since the Grangers had last been, as was a small business that seemed to be part jewelers and part antique dealer. The owner of the new establishment, _Lost Treasures_ , explained that there had been an overwhelming abundance of family heirlooms, priceless art, and ornate items left in the wake of the war. Many families fled Britain in fear, leaving behind houses that were later ransacked or set ablaze by Death Eaters on a tear. While the utmost effort had been made to return belongings to their rightful owners, in many cases, they were left unclaimed. As a result, several stores opened in various corners of magical communities where patrons could browse the collection and perhaps even come across something familiar.

Such was the case as Draco and Hermione were admiring a series of carriage and tambour clocks, and one caught the pale wizard’s eye. He reached a hand out slowly, almost as if afraid to touch the handsome timepiece, a shocked and rather dismayed look on his face. He carefully picked the scrolled, wooden case up and stared at it for several heartbeats.

“Draco? Is everything okay?” Hermione stepped closer to his side, noticing the sudden change in his demeanor.

“I think,” he cleared his throat, “I think this was Crabbe’s.” As he said so, he turned the clock over in his hand, revealing the smooth back of the woodwork, where a few words had been delicately engraved on the surface.

_“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”_

A small gasp escaped him as he took in the phrase, though Hermione was equally as surprised.

“But that’s a quote from Tolkien,” she whispered, and there was a question behind it.

Slate grey eyes flashed to chocolate brown, searching for something, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” she nodded vigorously, “In fact, it’s one of the many quotes Theo and I have discussed multiple times.”

Draco stared at the saying again, even more intently than before. After a few seconds, he explained, “Vincent’s mother gave him this clock on his fifteenth birthday, which took place the summer after Fourth Year. I remember him being annoyed because he’d been hoping for a new broom servicing kit, and a set of top-of-the-line Quidditch gloves.” He snorted and shook his head, “As I’m sure you know, it’s tradition to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age, so he was even more put-out by the fact that he’d be getting another time-telling device in two more years.”

“And you’re sure this one was his because…” Hermione let the question trail off.

A heavy sigh pushed past his lips before they quirked in a lopsided smirk, “He showed it to me the week after he got it, and specifically pointed out this quote, wondering what his mother was on about.” He met her curious gaze, “You have to understand, Eugenia Crabbe was not a motherly or sentimental woman. Like most Purebloods, she relied on House Elves to raise her children, and had very little to do with them. Crabbe made several comments that summer about how suffocating she’d become; demanding she know where he and his sister were at all times, forcing them to take all their meals together.”

He paused, lost in memories, his brain almost visibly whirring with thoughts as he connected the dots that had previously gone unnoticed. All at once, his gaze sharpened and he pierced Hermione with a penetrating stare.

“I think she knew.”

“Knew what?” the curly-haired witch was bemused.

“Knew what was coming after Voldemort returned. That was the summer after the Triwizard Tournament. After Cedric Diggory died. Her husband was among those who gathered in the graveyard, so she had to have known.”

“Was she a supporter? Or a silent bystander?” Hermione knew many of the wives of Voldemort’s inner circle had been unwilling participants to the schemes their husbands carried out, just like Narcissa.

“I honestly don’t know,” Draco shook his head, “But I’m going to go out on a limb here and say she wasn’t happy about it. I think she was trying to tell her son not to follow in his father’s footsteps.” He sighed again, “She took Crabbe’s sister and left the country before Fifth Year began. I have no idea if she ever returned, but I know he never mentioned either of them again.” A mixture of sadness, guilt, and curiosity swirled around inside of him as he considered everything he knew about his late classmate, and all he never would.

The two of them stared at the clock for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, before Hermione spoke in a quiet, yet decisive voice.

“I think you should get it.”

Surprise colored his face, “You do?”

She nodded, “Yes, it’s something to remember him by, but also, if you ever happen to come across his mother again, you could return it to her.”

He thought about this for a heartbeat or two before acknowledging that, as usual, his brilliant witch had a point, and he really would like to keep the clock. He might not have been the best example of a friend to Vincent, but the two boys had grown up together, and shared a substantial portion of their formative years, and he had more than a few fond memories of their time at school.

Draco nodded once and smiled down at her beside him, “You’re right. I’ll get it.” Dropping a kiss on top of her curls, he strode to the counter to do just that, leaving Hermione to search out her parents amidst the vast and eclectic array of items.

“Find anything?” she asked as she came upon them. Her mother had a large leather-bound book in her hands with gilded edges and a beautiful flower etched on the front, and her father, an armful of random things; a square, wooden tennis racquet, a matching set of pewter bookends in the shape of dragons, a very old map, and what looked like a small figurine of a codfish. She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as she took in the bizarre collection and simply cocked a brow at Edward, waiting for an explanation.

“This is a Slazenger Finalist!” he brandished the racquet enthusiastically, “I’m going to hang it on the wall in my office, next to the Wales National rugby jersey I just picked up at a swap last week.” He grinned and Jeanette interjected.

“He’s started quite a vintage sporting collection, and I told him his office was the perfect place to display all of his amazing finds,” her dark brown eyes were dancing and Hermione knew this was her mother’s way of saying _“There’s no way I’m letting him put that stuff all over the house.”_

Undeterred by his wife’s comment, Edward continued, shifting the objects in his hold to indicate the bookends and map, “These will be perfect for Draco’s room.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Well, that third bedroom has basically been used as a catch-all since we moved in, and we thought it would be nice to turn it into a guestroom. So Draco has a space of his own when he comes to visit.”

The very wizard he was speaking of walked up at that moment, a look of bemused curiosity on his face, “Did I hear my name?” His tone was teasing as he looked between the three Grangers. Hermione’s mouth had fallen open in surprise at her father’s announcement but a beaming smile spread across her face as his words sank in.

Draco, on the other hand, was listening as Edward repeated what he’d just been saying with a lump growing in his throat and a prickling increasing behind his eyes. He didn’t exactly know why the gesture was invoking such an emotional response, but instead of trying to sort it out right then or come up with eloquent words to express his appreciation, he simply stepped forward and hugged the kind-faced man and hoped he understood how much it all meant to him.

Edward seemed to, since he juggled his treasures enough to extract one arm so as to at least partially return the younger man’s embrace, patting him on the back heartily and promising that the room would be ready by the time Draco was able to visit.

“Although you’ll probably still have to share the space with Jeanette’s sewing machine and my golf clubs,” he smiled genially as he stepped back, earning himself a huff of laughter and a nod from the tall blonde.

Hermione had watched the scene unfold while blinking furiously to clear unshed tears from her eyes and had never been more thankful for her father’s accepting, generous, and big-hearted nature. While she and Draco had made tremendous strides in their relationship over the past year, and had confronted much of the unpleasantness that surrounded their history, there were some things she knew she couldn’t fix for him. The scars Lucius had left were deep and painful, and it was going to take time and healthier, more positive examples to help him come to terms with it all.

In an attempt to diffuse the heavy moment, Jeanette piped up, “Why the fish, dear?”

Edward glanced down at the item in question and held it out for them to see more clearly, “Well, you know how much I enjoy angling, and I thought this might look quite nice on my desk.” The greenish-brown tint of the scales covered with tiny black dots, and accompanied by delicate fins made the palm-sized trinket look almost real. It was attached to a base made from three wooden circles stacked upon one another, and truly did look like a miniature fishing trophy, though why anyone would make the effort to mount such an unimpressive catch was beyond understanding.

Happy with their findings, the Grangers made their way to the counter, with Draco and Hermione trailing behind. The clerk looked immensely pleased with their choices, and spoke briefly about each one as they came across his register. When he picked up the tiny cod, however, he surprised them all.

“Shall I undo the stasis, then?” he asked sincerely.

“The what?” Edward was bemused.

“The charm that keeps it from moving,” the clerk explained.

“It moves?” Hermione’s father was dumbfounded.

“Oh, yes,” and with a wave of a wand that was whipped out of a pocket with lightning speed, the ocean-dweller did indeed begin to flip its tail from side to side, its fins rippling at the same time.

“Would you look at that,” Edward was thoroughly enchanted.

“Oh, my… that’s, well… um,” Jeanette was less so.

“It’s quite handy, too,” the clerk added, plucking a business card from the holder at the end of the counter and placing its edge gently on the lower lip of the gaping cod, only to have it snap its jaw shut, holding the small rectangle firmly within.

Hermione and Draco chuckled at the sheer ridiculousness of it, while Jeanette released a long-suffering sigh, and Edward positively boomed out a hearty guffaw.

“It’s most definitely going on my desk. It’ll hold important notes for me!” he insisted upon recovering from his initial, gleeful surprise.

Once everything had been paid for and carefully wrapped, the quartet headed towards the exit, stopping just inside so Hermione could unceremoniously shove their purchases into the capacious depths of her beaded bag. Hands free once again, they decided to stop by Daphne’s shop, where the pretty designer was thrilled to show them around and talk about her latest creations. She was even able to skip out for lunch with them, and the three young adults regaled Edward and Jeanette with all manner of amusing stories from their year as housemates as the afternoon went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the relationship that's being established between Draco and Edward, and it will continue to play an important part as things move forward. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and sharing this journey with me! <3


	28. Partings and Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and her parents finish up her time with Draco, and spend a day at the Ministry.

After they had their fill of all Hogsmeade had to offer, Draco, Hermione, and her parents strolled back up to the castle where they spent the remainder of their visit in the Flying Instructor’s apartment. Jeanette had complimented him repeatedly for the wonderful job he’d done decorating his rooms and making them feel welcoming and homey. Though he’d blushed at the praise, he’d been more than a little pleased by it and couldn’t help pointing out the plaid blanket he’d transfigured from a cloak, and the bowl of Fall leaves he’d recently set as a centerpiece on his small table, complete with a rust-colored candle in the center. Edward immediately noticed the dragon statue on his mantle, and the map above it, and remarked smugly that apparently he knew the young man quite well already. Draco simply grinned at the comment, feeling a truth behind it he couldn’t even begin to describe.

A cozy supper was provided by the Kitchen Elves, and over bowls of hearty stew and slices of warm, crusty bread, they started discussing plans for the upcoming holiday season.

“It’ll be here before you know it,” Jeanette remarked, “Less than two months now.”

“True,” Hermione thought about it and turned to Draco, “When does break begin for the students?”

“With Christmas falling on a Saturday this year, McGonagall decided to end term on the twenty-first. Students can arrange to leave with their parents on Tuesday when classes are done, or take the train out Wednesday morning.”

“Do you need to stay on much beyond that?” Edward was curious about the responsibilities of the faculty and staff.

“Just until the last of the departing students have left. I’m sure there will be some who stay behind, there always are, but most of the staff is allowed to leave Wednesday by noon,” Draco realized he’d never considered the orchestration of all this when he was a student. He remembered Dumbledore’s presence at the Christmas feasts he’d attended, but beyond that, he had never even paused to wonder about what other plans the rest of the teachers might have had.

“Who else is staying besides the Headmistress?” Jeanette asked.

“Hagrid, of course, and Madam Pomfrey, though she will spend Christmas Eve with her sister. I also believe Professors Slughorn, Trelawney, and Sinistra will remain here,” the pale blonde paused for a moment, “I’m going to assume Madam Pince and Mister Filch will be here as well, though I don’t remember them ever joining the feast or seeing them around during the break before.”

“They’ll probably have a nice, little, romantic dinner in his office,” Hermione sniggered and was rewarded by her boyfriend choking on a sip of pumpkin juice.

“What are you on about? Are they… you can’t be serious,” his slate-grey eyes were bulging and his mouth gaping, which only caused her to laugh in earnest.

“No, I’m only teasing. I mean, I suppose they could have something going on, but it’s just something Harry and Ron and I used to joke about.”

Draco heaved a labored sigh, “That’s a mental image I now have to live with, thank you very much.”

“Madam Pince is the librarian, correct?” Edward asked and both young adults nodded, “Who is Mister Filch?”

Identical groans and eye-rolls came from the recent graduates, and Hermione explained, “He’s the caretaker, and he’s grouchy and mean, and he’s always lurking around waiting to catch students doing something he can tell them off for.”

“Too right,” Draco nodded fervently, “He’s got a bit of a thing for medieval torture, he’s older than dirt, and he has this horrible cat that stalks around tattling on everyone.”

“Tattling?” Jeanette was confused, “How does a cat tattle?”

“I’m not sure, but every time she comes across something she deems suspicious, Filch is right on her heels, like she sent him some sort of message,” he thought about this for a second, “You know, he might actually have devised a way to communicate with her. Some sort of spell, or charm.” This time, Draco was cut off by Hermione snorting so loudly she dissolved into a coughing fit that turned her cheeks bright red and caused her eyes to stream.

When she was able to breathe again, she spoke through her lingering giggles, “You think Filch could cast a spell? For _anything_? He’s a _squib_!”

Draco’s shocked expression was comical, “No he’s not!”

“Oh, yes he is,” Hermione nodded so vehemently her curls bounced all over the place, “You need to ask Harry about that. He found something on Filch’s desk one time that couldn’t have made it clearer.”

“Why on Earth would Dumbledore hire a _squib_ to work at a school of magic?” Draco was thoroughly gobsmacked.

“Why did Dumbledore do a lot of things?” Hermione shrugged, but although her tone was light, there was a weight behind her words that all three of her dinner companions sensed.

“Okay, so back to the original question,” Edward interjected, steering the conversation back to a happier topic, “Will you be going home to your family for the holidays, Draco?”

The handsome wizard nodded, “That’s my plan. I’ll floo there on the twenty-second, and I don’t have to be back here until January third. The students return on the fourth.” He looked between Hermione’s parents before asking, “What are your plans? Will you come back to Britain for the holidays?”

The older couple shared a glance before looking at their daughter, “We were considering it, if you think Harry would be alright with having houseguests again. We could always stay at a hotel if he’d rather not.”

Hermione was thrilled. In her mind, she had resigned herself to the idea of spending Christmas in Australia, and although she very much wanted to be with her parents, she didn’t much care for the idea of not seeing Draco at all around the holidays. She beamed at them both, “He would be perfectly happy to have you. Honestly, he’ll probably be at the Burrow for most of it anyway, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

"The Weasleys will probably be expecting you as well," Jeanette mused, her brow furrowed, but Hermione put her at ease at once.

"I'll see them at some other point. Molly will understand." She turned to Draco then as an idea popped into her head, “Why don’t you and Narcissa, Andromeda and Teddy join us at Grimmauld?”

He considered this for a moment, “I’m sure they would love to, and I’m sure Mother would also very much like for you all to come to the Manor. Perhaps we can do Christmas Eve at one, and Christmas Day at the other?” Though he hadn’t actually broached the subject with his mother, he knew she would gladly host the Grangers at the first opportunity.

“Oooh, that sounds wonderful,” Hermione’s eyes lit up at the idea. She had not yet managed to get back to the Manor since her visit right before the school term began, and truly wanted to spend some more time with Narcissa, as well as Draco's aunt and cousin.

“I’ll owl Mother this week and see what she thinks, and we can go from there, if that’s alright with everyone?” Draco asked the group and three heads nodded in excited agreement. “Well, since that’s settled, I hate to say it, but I should probably walk you up to McGonagall’s office. Your floo is in about fifteen minutes,” he said as he glanced at the recently-purchased clock that now sat in the center of the top shelf of the bookcase that stood on the right-hand side of the fireplace in his sitting room. He had placed it there immediately upon their return, and felt a combination of fondness and remorse each time his eyes had landed on it since.

“The day went by so quickly,” Jeanette remarked with a hint of sadness, though she smiled brightly at her host, “We’ll have to come visit again next term if you’ll have us.”

“Anytime,” Draco insisted, “It would be my pleasure.” He made sure they had all their belongings before ushering them out the door and back through the castle to the Head’s office, where Professor McGonagall was seated, as usual, behind her large, ornately carved desk. She stood as they entered and moved to greet the Grangers once more.

“I do hope your day was enjoyable,” her voice held a friendly question as she looked between Hermione’s mother and father.

“Oh, yes, most decidedly,” Jeanette exclaimed.

“We were just telling Draco we’d love to visit again,” Edward added and the Headmistress assured them she would be more than happy to arrange that whenever they wanted.

The older couple, now perfectly comfortable traveling by floo, shook Minerva’s hand and took turns hugging Draco before stepping into the fireplace, where Edward announced their destination in a louder-than-necessary voice, and they disappeared in a _whoosh_ of green flames.

Once they were gone, Hermione and her favorite wizard burst out laughing at her father’s exuberant exit, and even Professor McGonagall let out a small chortle.

“I need to go and speak to Madam Pomfrey,” she addressed the pair before her with a glint in her eye, “Don’t forget, the floo will only be open for a few minutes more.” With that, she smiled fondly before sweeping out the door, leaving them open-mouthed and staring in her wake.

“Did she just,” Hermione began but Draco cut her off.

“Yes, so let’s not waste it.” Before she could even comprehend his words, his lips were pressed against hers in a knee-wobbling kiss. She fisted the front of his jumper and molded herself to him as his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her so tightly to him that her toes were barely still on the ground. Whispered words of love and admiration filled the gaps when they came apart to breathe, and in a very short amount of time, Draco’s usually-neat hair was standing on end due to Hermione carding her fingers through it, and her cloak was half off her shoulders, her bag forgotten on the floor.

“I do hate to interrupt, but there’s only one minute left for the floo connection,” a familiar voice startled them out of their blissful connection and both of them cast frantically about before realizing it was their late Headmaster’s portrait speaking to them. Dumbledore’s blue eyes, sharp and sparkling as ever, pinned them with a pointed look, though a smile was clearly visible behind his long, silver beard.

After grinning sheepishly at the aged wizard, Draco picked Hermione’s bag up and handed it to her, then fixed her cloak and ran a hand over her curls, which were a little more chaotic than they’d been earlier. She blushed and laid her palm against his cheek, her eyes swirling with adoration as she rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a final, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I’ll write tomorrow,” she said with a soft smile, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said in a low voice, fighting the urge to pull her back into another embrace, his eyes molten and intense as he watched her step into the hearth and vanish in a flash of embers.

“I’m glad to see you doing so well, Draco,” Dumbledore spoke again and the young man turned back to face the portrait once more, unable to stop the lopsided grin that spread across his face.

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded, “And thank you for reminding us about the floo connection.”

Dumbledore huffed a laugh, “You’re welcome. I know how easy it is to lose track of time when one is engaged in, shall we say, rather enjoyable pursuits.” His eyes held a glint of mirth as he spoke and Draco chuckled in response before bidding his former Headmaster goodnight and making the journey back to his quarters with a jaunt to his step and a lingering smile on his face.

ooOoo

The next day, which she had taken off, Hermione brought her parents to the Ministry, having gotten permission from Kingsley ahead of time, of course. She wanted to show them where she worked, and introduce them to several people: the Minister, her bosses, and Harry’s boss, to name a few. While some might consider it silly or juvenile to bring ones parents to work, she wanted to show them as much of her world as possible. After so many years of only knowing about magic from her letters or visits home, and after the months of separation during and following the war, Hermione wanted to immerse her parents in her life in any way she could manage, so long as they were willing. And much to her delight, they were.

Edward was in awe of the sheer size of the massive, hallowed establishment. The vast marble atrium was impressive in its own right, but for someone who had never stepped foot in it before, it was quite a sight. The impossibly high ceiling, the gold-gated lifts, the many roaring fireplaces filled with emerald flames, and the gleaming floors all combined to create a truly wondrous sight. Even though it was late morning, long past the chaotic bustle of the start of a work day, there were still enough witches and wizards milling about to charge the atmosphere with a busy sort of energy.

Jeanette marveled at the different colored memos zooming above their heads, the owls swooping in from the glass-domed roof, and the random magical objects clearly being summoned as they floated through the lobby of their own accord. The trio walked towards the center of the space, where the fountain stood as the focal point. The _“Magic is Might”_ atrocity had long been removed, and in its place was something much more like the original piece, though clearly more all-encompassing of the magical world it represented.

A Wizard, Mermaid, Centaur, and Witch were arranged back to back, each facing a cardinal direction, their shoulders squared, heads held high, with proud but kind expressions on their faces. Encircling them were a variety of magical creatures: a Unicorn rested with his long legs tucked beneath him, his head regally tilted up, a wolf that, upon closer inspection bore several very visible scars on his muzzle and flank and clearly represented Werewolves, several Goblins and House Elves were interspersed, including one tiny being that looked incredibly similar to Dobby. There were even carved Fairies perched on shoulders and extended wand tips, a couple of Owls, a Fwooper, a half-sized Hippogriff, two small Dragons, and a Phoenix, which sat in stately fashion on the curved back of the Centaur. Water arced in thin streams from in between the figures, splashing gently into the glistening pool below, where the lights from all around reflected off the constantly rippling surface.

Hermione saw the statues every day on her way in and out of the Ministry, and it never failed to bring a pang of sadness and a spark of hope simultaneously to her soul. She couldn’t help but think of Dobby, of Remus, of the multitude of humans, beasts, and beings who had lost their lives in recent years, and yet she firmly believed their sacrifices were not in vain. The Wizarding World was moving in a better, more positive direction, and it would continue to do so as long as she had any say in the matter, which she planned to for many years to come.

Shaking off her reverie, she steered her parents though the maze of corridors, making introductions, sharing bits of random but interesting information about the many departments within the walls of the ancient building. They popped in to see Harry, who was more than happy to show off his own realm, and even went down to the Archives where Anthony met them with a friendly grin and indulged them in a brief tour of the endless shelves of documents, files, scrolls, and the like. As they were leaving, a pretty young woman was coming in through the doors. She nodded and offered them a polite smile, and something clicked in Hermione’s brain. She glanced over her shoulder to see Anthony’s attention firmly fixed on the approaching witch, though his eyes flickered to his former housemate and his cheeks flushed red. She flashed a knowing smirk at him and followed her parents out into the hall.

She was quite positive her father’s favorite part of the tour was the time they spent with Dean in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. While she and her mother chatted with Alicia Spinnet and Lee Jordan, who both worked there as well, Dean took Edward on a thorough walk-through of the floor. There was a Hall of Champions that boasted Britains top magical athletes (Oliver Wood among them), with hundreds of photographs, newspaper articles, jerseys, pennants, trophies, and banners lining the walls and filling the shelves. Edward claimed it was much like an impressive museum exhibit. They met several correspondents, who had offices stuffed to the brim with all manner of sports paraphernalia from the teams they covered, and stories of their favorite encounters. By the end, the kind-faced dentist had an armload of souvenirs and multiple invitations to attend matches and games in the upcoming year, which left him beaming and almost speechless with happiness.

They ate a late lunch at the Ministry café, more so her parents could experience it than the quality of the food, but their soups and sandwiches were perfectly satisfactory (though not nearly as good as Kreacher’s, according to Edward), and afterwards they made their way to Hermione’s floor. Gethsemane was thrilled to meet them and engaged them in conversation for over half an hour before insisting she show them around herself. While their department mostly consisted of typical offices, a spacious but unassuming reception area, and a small bullpen of assistants, the Map Room (as it was commonly called) was rather eye-catching. The entire back wall of the large space was covered with a map of the UK and the edges of neighboring countries. All over the map were hundreds of dots in a rainbow of colors. Some of them stayed in one place, while others moved about, and a small legend on the right-hand side explained what each color represented: department members out on assignment, herds/pods/flocks/groups of magical species, lone creatures, and locations that were under investigation for one reason or another.

In smaller relief on the other walls were maps of different nations that worked in partnership with the British Ministry, with similar dots and symbols. There was also a very large chart with the names of every department head and field worker, their corresponding dot color, as well as their current location and the date they were expected to be back. To the casual observer it might seem a tad busy or chaotic, but for those who frequented the room, it was an invaluable tool that had greatly helped organize and streamline many facets of their work.

“This looks like something you’d come up with,” Edward nudged his daughter with a proud smirk on his face, “All your color-coded notes and study schedules.”

Hermione’s cheeks tinged pink and before she could respond, Gethsemane replied, “Oh, but it _was_ her idea!” The older witch smiled at her newest employee and nodded at the Grangers, “Well, the maps were already there, but there wasn’t really a system in place for keeping track of everything. There were a lot of memos floating about, stuck to the wall, and tiny bits of parchment with almost illegible names and notes pinned on top of each other. It was all rather a mess.”

“So you came up with it all? It’s marvelous, dear,” Jeanette’s gaze roamed appreciatively over the walls once more.

“It truly is,” Gethsemane agreed, “Only been here two months and already making more headway than most do in a year, sometimes in their entire career” She paused and winked at the unassuming young woman who was often reluctant to accept praise for her ideas or accomplishments, and whose face was now entirely crimson as she stared at her shoes.

After a few more seconds of small-talk, Hermione and her parents bade farewell to the friendly department head. She was showing them her office when an unpleasantly familiar voice drifted through the air. Quintus was at his desk and when Hermione glanced across the way, she saw him scowling in her direction. Seeing no one else around, she realized he must have been speaking to her, which was a first in several weeks. He’d avoided her like the Plague after she went off on him; she’d not needed to reinstate her privacy charms since he’d taken to shutting his door when he saw she was in. Apparently something had caused him to break his silence.

“Did you say something, Warrington?” she asked politely, determined to maintain a professional demeanor in front of her parents who were happily milling around her workspace.

“Just didn’t realize it was _“Bring Your Parents to Work Day,”_ is all,” he sneered and she decided he was far less attractive than she’d fleetingly considered when they’d first met.

“Is that a problem?” she crossed her arms and stood in her doorway, a flash of warning in her eyes as she glared at the pompous Pureblood.

“I’m just surprised they were even allowed through the doors,” Quintus shrugged as if his comment was nothing of substance, but she knew exactly what he was intimating and her ire flared white hot.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I received permission from Kingsley beforehand, and since he spent over an hour with us when we arrived, I can assure you he is not the least bit bothered by the presence of Muggles in his Ministry,” a smug satisfaction rolled over her as Warrington grimaced at her familiar reference to the Minister. “However, I’m quite sure he _would_ have a problem with any of his employees disagreeing with his stance on such matters.” The ice in her tone left no question as to her intentions if he pushed the issue. Much to her relief, he didn’t.

“Yes, well, enjoy your day,” the disgruntled wizard muttered with a petulant glower on his face, no longer willing to meet her gaze as he waved his wand, causing his office door to close with a _snap_.

“Who was that?” Edward had come up alongside Hermione towards the end of the exchange and was frowning at the now-shut door across the hall.

She sighed, “Just a coworker. And a grumpy one at that.”

“Well, I didn’t like his tone. Draco would never speak to you that way.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that burst out, and hoped to high heaven that Quintus had heard her father’s words through the wooden door, “You are absolutely right, Dad. He wouldn’t.”

With all of their stops and visits having been made, the small family headed back to Grimmauld where Kreacher was waiting with steaming cups of tea, a plate of fresh-baked biscuits, and ears perked to hear all about their interesting day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connecting the pieces of Hermione's life is something that's rather important to me. I want her parents to know and understand more about her world, while also establishing a solid relationship with Draco.   
> I hope everyone is having a decent week, staying safe and healthy, and finding a little joy in every day. As Ron once wisely said, "Don't let the Muggles get you down!" Thanks so much for reading, y'all!! <3


	29. New Additions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Littlest Weasley arrives, and Draco is on hand to help his mentor out.

It was the middle of a cold, windy November night when Draco was awoken to the sound of someone knocking persistently on his apartment door. Still half asleep, he stumbled out of bed and made his way across the dark sitting room, pulling on his robe and wondering what could be the matter as he went. He opened the door to find a wild-eyed, panting, red-head poised to knock again.

“Bill? What’s going on?” Draco was wide awake at once, his senses on high alert as he peered beyond his mentor to the empty hall behind him, “Is it a student?”

“No,” Bill shook his head, “Fleur. She’s in labor. I think.” His words were choppy and his scarred face was flooded with worry as he stared pleadingly at his assistant. “I need to take her to the hospital.”

“How can I help?” the tall blonde stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him, gently steering Bill back in the direction of his own chambers, where his wife was most presumably alone.

“Um, I’m not sure,” the Defense Professor was clearly overwhelmed, a state Draco had never seen him in before. Bill was usually calm and unflappable.

“Have you alerted Madam Pomfrey?” The younger wizard knew the school’s matron had been providing prenatal care for the majority of Fleur’s pregnancy, in order to minimize the number of trips she’d need to take to St. Mungo’s.

“No!” Bill exclaimed, looking rather horrified at his gaff.

“It’s fine, I’ll go get her,” they had reached the Weasleys’ chambers, so Draco opened the door and gestured for Bill to go back inside, “You stay with Fleur. We’ll be right back.”

The soon-to-be father nodded tersely, his jaw clenched, his eyes still wide and slightly unfocused, but he headed in the direction of the bedroom as Draco closed the door and immediately took off at a light jog in the direction of the hospital wing. In just a few minutes, he and Madam Pomfrey were hurrying back the same way, talking in fast whispers as they traversed the silent corridors.

“She’s a bit early, isn’t she?” Draco asked, thinking the baby wasn’t due to arrive until the end of the month and wondering if something was wrong.

“Oh, just by about two weeks. And honestly, due dates are really just a best guess,” the knowledgeable witch explained. “She was considered full-term at the start of the month, so the baby is perfectly safe to be delivered today. Though, I will say, first-time mothers are often prone to what’s known as false labor, so there’s a possibility that could be what’s happening, too.”

Draco didn’t really want to know exactly what all that entailed, and was very thankful they had reached the door before Madam Pomfrey had a chance to expound on the topic. As soon as they entered, she called out for Bill, who poked his head out of the bedroom door and waved the matron in. The pale blonde hung back, having no desire to see Fleur in whatever state she was in, and feeling he’d just be in the way even if she was perfectly fine. As he was perusing the bookshelf near the door for something to do, Bill emerged from the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

“She’s checking her now and then we’ll decide if we need to go to St. Mungo’s or not,” he scrubbed his hands down his face and adopted a sheepish expression, “Sorry about all that. I couldn’t string two words together and you were the first person I thought of when Fleur woke me up.”

“No problem,” Draco shook his head and let out an amused huff, “I’m more than happy to do whatever you need, you know that.”

Bill nodded and gestured to the sofa, where they both settled in to wait and passed the time discussing lessons for the rest of the week. The younger wizard had already taken full control of almost all classes, simply going over plans and reviewing content with his superior at the start and end of each one. For his part, Bill mostly stayed in an out-of-the-way corner, so as not to distract the students or make Draco feel like he was breathing down his neck. He’d still been mildly hands-on for the more practical lessons, but they had decided to revert back to more bookwork for the remainder of the term, especially since exams were coming up before the holidays.

As they were still talking, Madam Pomfrey came out with a smile on her face and addressed Fleur’s concerned husband, “She is doing just fine. She does appear to be in active labor, but she’s at the very beginning stages of it. I gave her the choice to go to St. Mungo’s now, or to stay here until she progresses to the next level and she says she wants to stay in her own bed for as long as possible.”

“Is that safe?” Bill asked, his voice tinged with panic.

“Absolutely. In fact, it’s usually much less stressful for mothers to remain in familiar surroundings, instead of in a busy hospital, surrounded by strangers.”

“Alright then,” Bill looked at Draco and raised his eyebrows as if to ask what the young man thought of it all, but all he got in return was a wide-eyed shrug. “Is there anything I need to do for her?”

“Just be available,” Madam Pomfrey encouraged, “She’s resting in between contractions, so you can keep her company and help her breathe through them when they come. Otherwise, patience is the only thing you can offer.”

The eldest Weasley nodded firmly, “I can do that.” He stood and started to walk towards the bedroom before remembering Draco was still there, “Thanks again, Draco.”

“Keep me posted,” Draco stood and nodded as he made his way to the door, relieved that everything was fine.

“Will do,” Bill waved as he disappeared into the room with Fleur.

“I’m going to go alert the Headmistress and Emilie as to my whereabouts, before I come back here. I’ll check on her regularly until they decide it’s time to go,” Madam Pomfrey explained as she followed Draco out into the hall and the two retraced their steps from a short while ago.

“I’m available if they need anything,” he offered and the matron nodded and smiled kindly.

“Thank you. I know Professor Weasley greatly appreciates all you’ve already done to help him with his lessons this term. He speaks very highly of you,” she paused as they reached the point where they would head in separate directions and patted his arm, “His students are in excellent hands with you, Coach Malfoy.” The witch’s eyes sparkled with warmth and a bit of teasing as she bid him goodnight and bustled off down the corridor, leaving Draco with pink cheeks and a swell of pride filling his chest.

Upon reaching his own quarters, he crawled back into bed since there were still several hours left before he’d even need to be up for breakfast. As sleep pulled him under, his mind conjured images of Hermione holding a tiny person with a mop of blonde curls and bright amber eyes, and his lips tugged up into a smile even as soft snores filled the air.

ooOoo

Victoire Gabrielle Weasley entered the world roughly fourteen hours after her impending arrival had been set in motion. After laboring in her own room until late morning, Fleur decided it was time to go to the hospital, which sent Bill into another mild spiral of panic. Draco happened to be walking down the corridor when their door opened and the frazzled red-head looked for all the world like he was about to sprint away.

“Bill, how is everything?” Draco’s voice held more than a little concern, taking in his mentor’s state.

“I can’t find it!” Bill carded his fingers roughly through his hair, looking at random points in the hall as if what he sought might appear.

“What can’t you find?”

“Fleur’s bag! For the hospital! I’ve looked everywhere!” the normally easy-going wizard’s voice was rising in pitch as he gestured helplessly around him. Draco took a few steps towards him, and Bill backed into his sitting room, allowing the younger man to enter. Grey eyes darted around the space and landed on a floral-patterned bag on the kitchen table.

“Is this it?” he walked over and picked it up, controlling his urge to laugh at the comical way Bill’s eyes were bugging at him and the look of utter relief that dawned upon his scarred features.

“Oh, yes! You’re brilliant, Draco!” and he threw his arms around his assistant in a rib-crushing hug.

“Draco, it iz good to see you,” a much calmer voice carried across the room as Fleur appeared on the arm of Madam Pomfrey, dressed in robes and obviously ready to leave. She smiled tiredly, but there was an air of excited anticipation about her, and other than the fact that her hair was piled up in an uncharacteristically messy bun on top of her head, she looked as radiant and perfect as ever. She glanced adoringly at her husband, who was rummaging around in the newly-located bag before addressing the younger wizard again, “Thank you for all your help. Bill iz a leettle distracted, I think.”

Three of the adults in the room huffed a quiet laugh as the fourth continued digging in the luggage, muttering to himself as if going through a checklist of sorts.

“Perhaps you could assist in making sure Professor Weasley gets all the way to the Headmistress’ office with us?” Madam Pomfrey arched a brow at Draco as her lips twitched.

“Of course, I’d be happy to,” Draco approached Bill and asked if there was anything else he needed while the two witches started making the slow and measured journey to McGonagall’s floo.

“We’ve got nappies, jammies, burpies, booties,” Bill was rattling off, “It all ends in ‘eee,’ doesn’t it? Why do they all end in ‘eee’ d’you think?” As he was rambling, he was pulling said items out of the bag and putting them on the table, which Draco felt was counterproductive to his task.

“Perhaps because they’re all for a baby, which also ends in ‘eee,’” he attempted to placate the nervous man, “But I think right now we should pack these and follow Fleur to St. Mungo’s, yeah?” With unhurried, fluid movements, he began doing just that while Bill blinked owlishly at him as if he couldn’t comprehend what had been said.

“St. Mungo’s?”

“Yes.”

“Fleur’s decided it’s time, hasn’t she?”

“Yes, she has,” this time he couldn’t quite hide the chuckle that escaped.

“I should go with her.”

“Yes, you should,” Draco gave his mentor a once-over and suggested gently, “Though you might want to put on some shoes.”

Bill stared down at his bare feet and it all seemed to click, “Oh, for Godric’s sake.” He rushed into the bedroom and appeared ten seconds later with socks, shoes, robes, and even his previously-disheveled hair neatly in place, and a much calmer and more focused expression on his face.

“Right, then. Ready?” Draco grinned.

“Yes, or at least as I’ll ever be,” Bill rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness, picked up the repacked bag, and the two men headed out without further delay.

After watching the Weasleys and Madam Pomfrey disappear in the green flames, Draco returned to his regularly scheduled lessons and activities for the day. Twice during the afternoon he received notes from McGonagall, updating him on Fleur’s progress as per the Healer now in charge of her case. While he had no idea what phrases like “ _dilated to seven centimeters,_ ” or “ _water has broken_ ,” meant, he was pleased to hear that things were progressing steadily and that everything was fine.

Shortly before dinner, as he was organizing his materials in the Defense classroom for the next day’s lessons, the Headmistress found him.

“I am pleased to say that Bill and Fleur are the happy new parents of a baby girl, and that everyone is doing splendidly,” her wrinkled face broke into the biggest smile he’d ever seen her allow and he immediately grinned in response.

“That’s fantastic!”

“I’ll make the announcement to the students at supper, but Professor Weasley specifically requested you be told at once,” her beady eyes twinkled and Draco nodded in response.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” and he realized as he said it, that a weight he hadn’t known he’d been carrying around all day was lifted with the knowledge that all had gone according to plan. He hadn’t been worried, per say, but perhaps anxious was the best way to describe it, as he’d thought about the man he’d grown to admire and respect as both mentor and friend, as well as his kind wife and the baby they were eagerly waiting to meet. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how he’d have felt in Bill’s place, and the thought of such a stressful ordeal at this stage in his life made him actually shudder. Thankfully, McGonagall had already turned as was heading back out the door.

“Oh, Professor,” he called after her and she paused to look at him, “Is there anything they need? Anything I should do for them before they return?” He thought about that for a moment before voicing another question, “How long will they be gone?”

The elderly witch smiled again, though this time with a softness one would not typically associate with her, “I expect they’ll stay at St. Mungo’s for two days, and then Fleur will need to rest and recover for several weeks once they return. I can’t think of anything they would immediately need, but if I do, I shall let you know at once.”

Draco nodded, “Alright. I’ll see you at supper in just a bit, then.”

McGonagall tilted her head in acknowledgement before sweeping off down the hall.

ooOoo

_Fleur had her baby – Victoire Gabrielle._

_Bill sent an owl during dinner saying she’s 3.1 kg, and 48 cm._

_I’m guessing that’s a normal size for a baby?_

_**Yes! Ron sent word right as Harry and I were getting home.**_

**_I’m so pleased for them – can’t wait to see her!_ **

**_And yes, she’s a perfectly normal size._ **

_I realized lately I’ve really never been around babies or very young children._

_All the families my parents associated with had children in similar age to me._

_**It was like that for me growing up, too, though after my neighbor Larry moved away, the next family had little ones. Their daughter was two and their son a newborn when they moved in. I used to go over and play with Annaliese sometimes, so her mother could get things done while Henry was napping. I held him a few times, but after that first year, I started at Hogwarts and my interactions with them were limited.**_

_Well, you’ve got more experience than me._

_I’d probably drop the poor thing._ ****

**_Ha-ha. You would not._ **

_Probably put the nappy on backwards, too._

_**I doubt that.**_

**_By why are you even worried about it? Have Bill and Fleur given you baby fever?_ **

_What?_

_Merlin, no!_

_You should have seen Bill today – completely round the bend._

_He was ready to go to St. Mungo’s without shoes._

_**Oh no.**_

**_I’m laughing, but I feel bad for him._ **

**_He was probably just really nervous._ **

_Oh, definitely. Looked rather unhinged a few times._

_Thought he was going to pass out on me at one point._

_**I’m glad you were there for him.**_

**_I know he was, too._ **

_All I did was get Madam Pomfrey, and help him find Fleur’s bag._

_It was right on the kitchen table._

_**Ha-ha-ha!**_

**_No it wasn’t._ **

_Yes, it absolutely was._

_He started unpacking it and asking why things had names that end in “eee.”_

_I put it all back and told him to go get some shoes._

_**Oh, this is too much.**_

**_Poor Bill!_ **

**_I’m sure you were very kind about it._ **

_Well, I didn’t snort in his face, if that’s what you mean._

_I waited till he went through the floo and then laughed all the way to my next class._

_**That’s understandable.**_

**_I wonder if he’ll remember any of it?_ **

_For his sake, I hope not._

_Totally undignified._

_**Oh, yes, I forgot.**_

**_I’m talking to the Slytherin Prince of the Poshest Upbringing._ **

_Ugh. When you say it like that…_

_Never mind. Bill was perfectly fine. I’m sure I’ll dissolve into similar fits when my own time comes._

_**Now that I would love to see.**_

_Good thing, since you’ll have a front row seat._

_**Will I, now?**_

_Obviously._

_**I’m holding you to that, Draco Malfoy.**_

_Please do, Hermione Granger._

_**Prat.**_

_Swot._

_**I can see the smug grin on your face from here.**_

**_I miss you._ **

_I miss you, too._

_Game Night’s next week, though!_

_**Thank Merlin for that.**_

_Will you be showing up early again?_

_**Probably not.**_

**_Plus, you’re now solely responsible for all Bill’s classes, so…_ **

_True._

_I forgot about that._

_**How could you forget?**_

_Today was the first day he was officially gone!_

_And it was a rather stressful one, at that._

_**I’m just joking – don’t get your knickers in a twist.**_

_I’d rather get your knickers in a twist._

_**Draco!**_

_I’m just telling the truth._

_**Git.**_

_Tease._

_**I am not!**_

_Well, when you make comments like that about your knickers…_

_**I did not make a comment about my knickers! I made one about yours!**_

_Men don’t wear knickers, Miss Know-It-All. They’re called pants._

_**I know that. I was just**_

**_Never mind._ **

**_This is a ridiculous conversation._ **

_You started it._

_**I did not!**_

_I can practically feel your indignation through the page._

_You know I just like riling you up, love._

_**(Sigh)**_

**_Yes._ **

**_And I fall for it._ **

**_Every time._ **

_Is that such a bad thing?_

**_When we’re this far apart and I can’t physically retaliate, yes._ **

_I’m quite happy to avoid another slap, thank you._

_**I wasn’t thinking of violent retribution…**_

_Oh, really?_

_Then what were you_

_Wait._

_No._

_I’m not falling for this again._

_**Falling for what?**_

_You’ve started… intimate… conversations before and left me completely hanging._

_I’m not subjecting myself to that kind of disappointment again._

_**That’s too bad.**_

**_I had a very vivid dream the other night that I was going to tell you about._ **

**_But if you’d rather steer clear of such topics…_ **

_A dream?_

_That’s a whole other cauldron of potion._

_Do tell._

_**Well, if you’re sure.**_

_I’m sure._

**_We were in the hedge maze at the Manor and you were chasing me, like you did in August._ **

_Go on._

_**I’d run for a bit, and you’d catch me, and kiss me, and then let me go again.**_

**_I was wearing a sundress with buttons down the front, and after you caught me, you’d undo one button each time._ **

_I let you run away after unbuttoning your dress?_

_Dream Draco is an idiot._

_**Yes, well, eventually all the buttons were undone and the dress was left behind.**_

**_That was the last time you let me go._ **

_Please tell me I caught you._

_**Oh yes. Very quickly, too.**_

**_You found me in the middle of the maze, by the fountain._ **

**_The grass around it was so very soft when we lay down on it._ **

_And then._

_**And then I woke up.**_

_What?_

_…_

_That’s it?_

_Seriously?_

_**It was a very nice dream.**_

**_I’m sure I’d feel ridiculous, running around in my knickers in real life._ **

**_But in my sleep it was rather enjoyable._ **

_Rather enjoyable._

_…_

_You were_

_Without_

_…_

_And I…_

_…_

_**Draco?**_

**_Are you okay?_ **

_I’m going to go take a shower now._

_**Oh, okay!**_

**_Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then._ **

**_I love you._ **

_I love you, too, you infuriating minx._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo! I apologize for the lateness of this chapter - I was out of town till last night. I'll also be gone all next week, but I'll be posting an extra chapter and a surprise before I leave ;)   
> I had more than a little fun with Bill in this chapter, letting him be the stereotypical nervous new dad. He's adorable. Lol. And I think Hermione's gotten quite good at teasing Draco (and the poor boy falls for it every time!)  
> I hope everyone is hanging in there. Thank you so much for reading! <3


	30. The Welcome Wagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made to celebrate Bill and Fleur's new baby, and several letters are written.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hello, sweet friend! How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t written in a few weeks; Daddy sent us on a quest right after our last Game Night and we’ve only just returned. There’s been an abundance of Occamy hatchings in India lately, and we’ve been curious about the possible reasons behind it. While the creatures are fairly common over there, their nests are typically hidden in obscure, out-of-the-way places, so no one will accidentally come upon them and harm the eggs or hatchlings. Over the last year, residents of several of the southern states have reported finding nests on their roofs, in nearby trees or outcroppings of rock, and even in rain barrels and mailboxes, which confuses the Muggles greatly because they have no idea what these animals are._

_We worked with the Ministry in Karnataka to organize teams of workers who could comb through neighborhoods systematically. Two members engage residents of the community in general, door-to-door surveys, while two others collect any nests, eggs, or even mature Occamies they find, and send them to a central location where they can be checked over to make sure they’re in good health. Theo and I mostly stayed out of the way and observed, but we were able to interview several of the Ministry workers, and get a close-up look at numerous Occamies, babies, and eggs. It was fascinating!_

_No one knows yet what is causing the influx, or the unusual nest-building patterns, but all the winged serpents seem to be perfectly healthy and content. The head of the Magical Creature department over there even let us bring one egg home to observe the hatching process after Theo mentioned his series of articles. I know they aren’t birds, but they’re very interesting and will make a wonderful subject for an upcoming piece. He said he’ll probably do a short series tracking the egg-to-maturity phases, complete with pictures. Daddy is thrilled!_

_We were so pleased to hear about Bill and Fleur’s baby – Theo has been asking all sorts of questions about pregnancy and newborns as a result. He’s not spent much time around infants, I don’t think. It seems to terrify him as much as it intrigues him. I’ve been around more animal and creature babies than human ones, but I’ve had a bit of experience helping with younger cousins and the children of people Daddy would interview for articles. If I happened to join him for a meeting, I’d usually occupy the little ones so the grown-ups could talk. I told Theo it’s really not that difficult, and most of it comes rather naturally. I think he’ll make a wonderful father, regardless of how lacking his own was. Not that we are in any rush to test that theory. We’ll get there when we get there. Much like you and Draco, I would guess._

_I’m very much looking forward to seeing you in just a few days! I can’t believe we’re already more than halfway through November. Christmas will be here in no time, and I haven’t even started planning for it. The Dirigibles need a stern talking-to about their behavior last year, and I need to remind the Mistletoe to only charm someone once. Repeat performances aren’t as funny as one might think, especially if you get stuck under it with the same person after an awkward first go-around. The batches from our garden were sent over to Ottery St Catchpole last yule, and there were several reports of individuals getting caught multiple times as they tried to walk down the sidewalk. Although, there was one lovely story about a young couple who wound up getting married this past Spring after that very thing brought them together._

_Theo has not stopped talking about the Dungeons and Dragons game. I think he’s mildly obsessed. I’ve decided he needs his very own set and want to get one for him for Christmas. Can you help me? He’s been telling Daddy about it, and I think the two of them would really enjoy playing together. I think it’s fun, but I’m not nearly as concerned about Soveliss’ tracking abilities or druid spell levels as Theo is. I do find it very interesting that the characters have to earn their abilities, unlike real witches and wizards who are born with it all. Could you imagine if you only gained the use of certain spells after completing an exam? Or finishing a school term? I’m certain some of the students wouldn’t master everything, which would mean they wouldn’t have access to those abilities. How odd._

_Anyway, all that to say, I’m excited to see everyone and continue our game. Do you think we’ll do Secret Santas again this year? Or another sort of gift-swap? I just like giving presents, so I’m good with any type of plan for that. Speaking of gifts – maybe we could all bring something for baby Victoire? I think it would be nice to welcome her to the world as a group like that. What do you think?_

_I’ll end here. I need to make sure Daddy has finished running copies for tomorrow’s edition, and that Theo has visited the Plimpies. They were surely lonely for company while we were gone._

_Can’t wait to see you!_

_Love,_

_Luna_

Letters from the fairy-like witch never failed to bring a smile to Hermione’s face, and this latest missive was no exception. She could just imagine Theo’s reactions to the idea of a baby; probably very similar to Draco’s; and though she’d been startled initially by Luna’s comment about them all “getting there,” she was no more surprised by the concept of her two friends winding up together than she was by the thought of raising a family with Draco. Things would happen when they were meant to happen, and that brought a warm, comforting feeling washing over her.

She loved the idea of having a bit of a baby shower for Bill and Fleur, and was mentally kicking herself that they hadn’t done anything sooner. Like her nine former housemates, she had been so wrapped up in her new job and adjusting to life outside of school that the weekends they’d spent together had solely been about _them_. She knew the new parents weren’t expecting anything from anyone, but still. Fleur’s family had thrown a massive party in France over the Summer, while Hermione had still been in Australia with her parents, and Ginny had told her all about the myriad of tiny outfits, plush animals, beautiful picture books, and delicious tea cakes that had made up the festive occasion. She’d been sorry to miss it, but hadn’t even considered leaving her parents after just being reunited.

Sitting down at the desk in her bedroom, she created a simple invitation that she copied eight more times. She knew Game Night would take up Saturday evening, but they could most definitely do something earlier in the day. She apologized for the short notice, realizing she was really giving her friends only two days to get a gift since they’d all be arriving at the castle on Friday, but offered to help anyone who needed it. Credit was given to Luna for the idea, and suggestions were included for some basic items that would be useful for the new mum and dad. She sent Cyrene out at once with the two letters that needed to go to Hogwarts, and hurried off to find Harry to see if she could borrow his owl, Trumpkin, for the more local deliveries. (Harry had taken to reading the _Narnia_ series after the war and was fascinated by the various characters C.S. Lewis had come up with. He claimed the grumpy dwarf reminded him simultaneously of Snape, with his skeptical and unimpressed nature, and Hagrid, with his loyalty and fierce heart, and thus chose to name his new pet in honor of the two.)

Having sent her letters off, she bundled up and headed right back out, knowing exactly which little boutique she wanted to visit and hoped they weren’t about to close quite yet.

Thankfully, Trotter’s was still open for another hour, which gave her plenty of time to browse their extensive collection of adorable outfits and tiny accessories. She settled on a pale pink sleeper with little white ducks embroidered on the front, and a matching bib to go with for her gift. She also picked up an incredibly soft blanket in a pretty mint green with pastel polka-dots all over it, a fluffy white bunny with long, floppy ears that was begging to be cuddled, a set of colorful board books, and a set of two bath towels with hoods that looked like a sheep and an owl, complete with wash mitts in matching animals. These extra presents would be available for any of her friends who didn’t have a chance to pick something up, or didn’t know what to get, and anything not used in the coming weekend, she could easily wrap up for Victoire for Christmas.

Arms loaded with shopping bags, she made her way back to Grimmauld where she promptly showed Harry all the adorable items, which he “ _ooohed_ ” and “ _aaahed_ ” over sufficiently. He then considered the fact that he should probably send a gift himself and asked if she’d help him pick one out the next day after work, which she happily agreed to do.

ooOoo

Harry thought about what he wanted to get the littlest Weasley all that next day as he went about his job. His brain had immediately gone to things like a miniature broom, a tiny cauldron, or even a baby-sized witch’s hat, but none of those seemed very useful for a newborn or her parents. Ginny had told him all about the elaborate shower Fleur’s family had thrown back in July, and he knew Victoire probably had more clothes by now than all her aunts and uncles combined, not to mention toys, books, nappies, and other baby paraphernalia that he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do something for Bill and Fleur to celebrate the arrival of this new, tiny person. Something they would enjoy. By the time he met up with Hermione at the end of the work day, he was quite settled on his idea, and more than a bit pleased with himself for it.

As the pair of friends made their way out of the Ministry, he explained his plan, “I know right now Bill and Fleur have everything they need; all the baby supplies, a comfortable place to live, and meals provided by the Elves. Eventually, though, regardless of whether or not Bill continues to teach there, they’re going to want a night out on their own, wouldn’t you say?”

“Absolutely,” Hermione nodded emphatically, beaming at her best friend’s idea.

“I’d like to get them certificates for that. Maybe to dinner and a show in Muggle London? Bill is more familiar with it than most of his family, just due to the nature of his job at Gringott, so I think he could navigate it just fine,” his brow furrowed as he second-guessed himself.

“Oh, Harry, that’s brilliant!” she reassured him at once, and she truly meant it.

“Yeah?” green eyes lit up at her affirmation.

“Yes,” she nodded firmly and looped her arm through his, “Let’s go to the ticket office first in Leicester Square first, and see what they can offer. Then, we’ll pick a restaurant.”

“Sounds good!”

Their agenda in place, the two made their way through the pre-holiday crowd bustling along the sidewalks. Their visit to the theater stand was successful, the clerk explaining several options that would allow the recipients to choose the date, time, and show of their liking. Harry settled on an option that gave three years for them to use the certificate, and with enough credit to enjoy two or even three shows, depending on the price of the tickets at the time.

“I figure, even if they move away or Bill goes back on assignment for the Goblins, he’ll still come home a few times each year, so they can use it then,” Harry explained as they turned their attention to the wide variety of eateries in the theater district. Christophers, Sarastro, and The Ivy struck his fancy the most, so he purchased certificates for each other those, making sure there was enough credit to cover an entire meal, drinks, and dessert for the sweet couple at each. He knew it was a lot of money, but for everything the Weasley’s had done for him over the years, he would never spend enough to thank them. He also knew Arthur and Molly would never simply take any sort of hand out from him, but they would be thrilled to know their son and daughter-in-law had received such a gift.

Thoroughly satisfied with his success for the evening, Harry insisted Hermione join him at The Porterhouse, an Irish pub he and Dudley had visited just a few weeks earlier, and which he insisted had the best burgers and fries out of any of the taverns the cousins had visited so far. She happily agreed to check it out and they set their course for the well-known establishment.

ooOoo

_Dear Mother,_

_I hope this finds you well and that you, Aunt Andromeda, and little Teddy are enjoying a vibrant Autumn at the Manor. While the forest on the grounds did shift to reds and golds and oranges, with all the rain, the leaves are now completely gone. At least they lasted until our bonfire with the Second Years was over. When I’m home for Christmas, I’ll have to show you all how to make s’mores in the fireplace. Hermione says they come out just as good indoors._

_Speaking of my favorite Gryffindor, she and her parents came to visit earlier in the month and we talked about the upcoming holidays. Edward and Jeanette are planning to return to Grimmauld for a few days, and we were all hoping to get together for Christmas Eve and Day. Is that something you would feel comfortable with? Could we host one of those events at the Manor? I don’t think Hermione has a preference as to which is spent at her place, so it is entirely up to you. Talk with Aunt Andromeda and let me know what you think. I know it’s still quite a few weeks away, but with the end of term approaching, I know I’ll be swamped and would like to give Hermione time to plan her part of it all._

_Bill and Fleur Weasley had their baby – a girl – Victoire Gabrielle. We’re having a bit of a surprise party for them this Saturday, before our Game Night commences. Neville and I went down to Hogsmeade yesterday and roped Daphne into helping us pick out something since neither of us had a clue. Good thing we did, as he wanted to get something from Dogweed and Deathcap. I told him just because a greenhouse is also called a “nursery” doesn’t mean it’s ideal for babies. Thankfully, he found a colorful counting book about plants and flowers at Tomes and Scrolls, and Daphne found a set of bibs with embroidered flowers on them to go with it. I picked out a stuffed dragon similar to the one Teddy has, but it’s a light purple color with shiny silver wings, and a fuzzy blanket with rainbows all over it._

_I’m not sure what to get Hermione for Christmas this year. Last year we weren’t even together yet, and she just happened to be my Secret Santa. Valentine’s Day was sweet and mostly homemade, but this is our first Yule and I feel like it’s rather a big deal. I want it to be something meaningful, but not elaborate. She doesn’t like anything ostentatious overstated, and will lecture me to no end if she thinks I’ve spent too much (though her version of ‘too much’ and mine are vastly differing). Do you have any suggestions?_

_I need to end here and meet the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for their evening practice. I’ll write again soon._

_Your son,_

_Draco_

He sent Apollo off with the missive, grabbed his coaching gear, and strode out to the pitch just as members of the team were making their way out of the lockers. He’d invited the Hufflepuff First Years to join them for the practice so they could watch from the stands and learn a few things about flying. He’d done this with the Ravenclaws and Slytherins so far to great effect, and would have the Gryffindors out there the following night as well. He spotted young Erik in the stands and waved, happy to see a wide grin spread on the boy’s face. The eleven-year-old had made some improvement in recent weeks and could now at least summon his broom off the ground, mount it, and hover for a minute or two. He wasn’t quite able to go anywhere, but progress was progress, and Draco commended him heartily for it.

He spoke briefly with the team captain about the drills they were planning to run before blowing the whistle and striding off into the stands. He positioned himself behind the cluster of First Years, pointing out different aspects of the older students in the air; how they held their brooms, how they leaned with the turns, how they could stop and start on a knut. Of course there were a myriad of questions, there always were, but on the whole, the new flyers watched with avid interest and seemed to be absorbing at least some of what he was trying to impart. He realized he’d been spoiled the previous year with students like Olivia and Andrew, and a handful of others who were naturals on a broom. This year’s batch of firsties weren’t quite as coordinated or daring, both of which were required skills to excel at this particular magical activity.

After a little over an hour, he dismissed the red-nosed, slightly shivering bunch and sent them back to the castle, though the team out on the pitch was allowed another forty-five minutes or so. Draco occupied himself by mounting his own broom and zooming in wide circles around the team, keeping a critical eye on their maneuvers and technique. Every so often he would holler a correction, or fly up alongside a player and converse with them about what could be improved. All-in-all, it was a successful practice and they all left the pitch feeling rather pleased with themselves. The tall blonde was humming a random tune as he locked the broom shed and started to make the trek back up to the school when he spotted a lone figure off the beaten path, in the shadows of the ancient castle. As he drew closer, he was pretty sure he recognized the younger student.

“Allison?” he called, still a good distance away and making as much noise as he could while walking on the grass, so as not to frighten her. His wand was lit, but the sky was cloudy and starless, the moon covered up, and only the random lights from the windows of the Great Hall were helping to illuminate the area.

The dark-haired girl spun around to face him and even with the lack of light, he could tell she’d been crying, which was highly out of character for the spunky, outspoken Slytherin.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a quieter voice as he drew near, trying to assess if anything was physically wrong with her without actually touching her.

She nodded and looked at the ground for a second before looking back up at him and he could clearly see her brown eyes were filled with tears, her nose and cheeks pink, probably both from the cold and the crying. After staring at him for a beat or two, she changed her mind and shook her head before covering her face in her hands and sobbing with such force her entire body was shaking.

Draco inwardly cursed his luck; while he was much better at dealing with emotions and feelings than he used to be, he was still nowhere near as well-versed in gestures of comfort or empathy as some of his former housemates. _Where was Neville, for Merlin’s sake? He could handle this so much better._

Raising his eyes to the silent heavens, he sighed inwardly and stepped even closer, now able to reach out and place a tentative hand on her quaking shoulder. Immediately, and without removing her hands, Allison turned into him, her forehead thudding against his torso as she let out a despairing wail. He patted her awkwardly on the same shoulder and simply stood there, waiting for it to end. When her tears seemed to have subsided, and only a random hiccup remained, he stepped back and peered down at her.

“Do you want to talk about whatever has upset you?” he was really, really hoping she’d say no, but as luck would have it, apparently he fit the bill for a twelve-year-old girl’s ideal confidant, because she immediately launched into a rapid, slightly hysterical diatribe about a Third Year Ravenclaw named Natalia who had been making eyes at Andrew, who apparently Allison had fancied since last year.

“LAST YEAR, Coach Malfoy!”

She then continued, swiping her eyes angrily and pacing back and forth in front of him, ranting about how it was so unfair because she _knew_ Andrew; they had partnered for several Transfiguration projects, and even shared a potions table, didn’t he know? Apparently this Natalia was considered to be pretty by several boys Allison heard talking, and now she worried she didn’t measure up. The final straw, the one that had sent her storming out into the night, was that Andrew hadn’t shown up in the Library that evening, even though they always studied together on Thursdays, and when she saw Malcolm on her way out, she asked if he’d seen his housemate.

“Do you know what he said?” she shrieked.

“Noooo,” Draco replied warily, but hazarding a guess that it wasn’t anything Allison deemed good.

“He said Andrew had gone to the Fifth Floor. Do you know what’s on the Fifth Floor?” she didn’t even wait for him to respond this time, “Ravenclaw Tower!” She threw her hands up into the air as if this proved her point, though what point that was, Draco wasn’t entirely sure.

“Ummm,” he began unsteadily, but feeling like he ought to say something in the wake of her tirade, “There are other areas of interest on the Fifth Floor, too.” He cleared his throat and continued, feeling rather like he was defending his actions to the Headmistress, the way the young girl was glaring at him, waiting for him to prove her wrong. “There’s the Prefect’s Bath, which he obviously couldn’t get into, but it’s also where the Trophy Room is this year, and it’s where both the Dueling Club and the Hogwarts Choir meet in their own respective rooms.” He knew it was a lame attempt at placating the irate witch, but it was about all he could offer at the moment.

Allison goggled at him in silence and he wracked his brain to try to come up with something more to placate her, but before he could marshal his thoughts, she let out a gleeful little sound, completely at odds with the fit of hysterics she’d been in mere minutes before.

“The Dueling Club meets up there? You’re sure?” she was breathless and beaming, clutching his sleeve like she was trying to strangle it, and watching him closely for any sign of doubt.

“Yes, every Monday and Thursday evening now. They used to meet on Wednesdays, but I believe that started to interfere with some of the participants who also joined the new Chess Club. Tonight is their first Thursday, according to Professor Humboldt, and he said,” but whatever the young professor might have said was lost in a happy squeal the Slytherin witch emitted as she flung her arms around Draco’s waist and bounced on her toes.

“Thank you, Coach Malfoy! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” her gratitude trailed over her shoulder as she sprinted off towards the castle, tears and frustrations clearly forgotten, though the bemused Flying Instructor wasn’t entirely sure what she was thanking him for.

Chuckling and shaking his head, he glanced around, making sure there was nothing and no one else out on the lawn before continuing his previous path back to his quarters. He wondered to himself as he climbed several staircases, if all younger witches were like that. He recalled several instances during his school days when Hermione’s temper had flared; her eyes flashing, wand sparking, and even her hair seemed to grow when her ire was raised. When her rage was directed at others, such as Potter and Weasley, it was amusing and rather a sight to behold. When it had been directed at him? Well, it was downright terrifying. He laughed softly to himself again, thanking all the Founders that he hadn’t been on the receiving end of her wrath in a very long time, but also realizing he was quite fond of that spark within her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This was a little longer than most chapters, but there's a lot happening in the lives of my favorite characters :) The scene between Draco and Allison cracks me up since I remember those drama-filled, pre-teen days all too well. Lol.   
> I will be out of town all next week, so in preparation for that, I will be posting an extra chapter tomorrow, AND I have a new one-shot I'll be putting up as well :) I hope all of you are hanging in there - thank you so much for reading and commenting and keeping me company in this endeavor! <3


	31. Film Adaptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group is back together again, and spend the evening watching some very well-known movies.

_Dearest Draco,_

_I would be delighted to have Hermione and her parents here for any portion of the holiday they wish to spend with us. If they are arriving just a day or so before Christmas Eve, perhaps it would be easiest to have that at Grimmauld Place, so they don’t have to turn around and leave again so quickly. They can all come here for Christmas Day – we’ll have dinner and they are welcome to stay the night if they want. We have more than enough room and I know Andromeda and Teddy would love a longer visit, as well._

_Let me know once you have talked with Hermione. I’m sure whatever she decides will be perfect._

_Love,_

_Mother_

Apollo found him just before his last class of the day on Friday, and the timing could not have been more perfect since his favorite witch would be arriving at the school in a little over an hour. All the preparations for the November Game Night had been made and everything was in order for their monthly gathering, the only downside being that Padma was not going to be able to get there until Saturday afternoon. She had told Daphne, who had told Draco and Neville when they saw her earlier that week that she had an assignment that evening but hoped to join them in time for the little party they were throwing for Bill and Fleur.

His Second Years did a fantastic job that afternoon, so much so that he didn’t feel the least bit guilty letting them leave a full fifteen minutes early. The wide-eyed looks of joyful disbelief had been quite rewarding as he’d shooed them out the door with a reminder that he’d see them all on Sunday for the pizza party Theo had insisted should be their get-together this time around. He straightened up Bill’s desk (for that was how he still thought of it, even though he was flying solo for a while) and made sure everything was in order for the first lesson of the day on Monday, before hurrying off to grab his bag from his apartment.

This time, he was actually the very first one to arrive at the Room, and took a moment after stepping through the tall, oaken doors to simply bask in the familiar surroundings and let a feeling of warmth and contentment wash over him. While Draco wasn’t prone to emotional attachments to places or things, this space had been a haven for him the previous year and had allowed him the freedom to make the necessary changes he needed to in order to become the man he was now (though he would be quick to point out he was very much still a work in progress).

He grinned to himself as he remembered exactly where he was standing at the end of the Pictionary game where he’d hugged Hermione for the first time; the moment she kissed him after he gave her the frame with their winning drawing in it; the corner he hid in on Valentine’s Day as he watched her find the surprise he’d arranged; the couch cushion he sat on when he told her he loved her. So many memories, his heart was filled with a combination of happiness, gratitude, and wonder at it all. He was so caught up in his musings, he didn’t hear the door open behind him and was startled when a voice broke the silence.

“Taking in the scenery?” Theo joked and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oi!” Draco jumped slightly but clapped his friend on the back in greeting immediately after, “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Obviously,” the lanky brunette snorted, “You alright? You looked kind of dazed there, staring off into space.”

“Yeah, just… just thinking, I guess,” he shrugged, “Remembering different things from last year.” He met the pair of dark brown eyes watching him curiously and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, which Theo seemed to understand at once.

“Ah, yes, all the different spots you snogged Hermione, yeah?”

“Something like that,” Draco agreed with a low rumbling laugh, “I just feel like this place helped me a lot, if that makes any sense.”

Theo nodded solemnly, his eyes bright and sincere, “Too right, mate. This room,” he gestured widely, encompassing everything around them, “This room was more of a home to me than the Manor ever was, and even more so than our dorm all those other years.” He paused and took on a contemplative look, something rarely seen on his usually teasing face, “It let me be myself for the first time in a long time. That means something."

“Yes, it definitely does,” the pale blonde knew exactly what his long-time friend meant and was glad they understood each other in this. He knew, too, that as much as the Room had played a part in their healing and self-discoveries, the people they had shared it with were even more instrumental in that process. Thinking of their housemates, he looked around the still-empty room, save for the two of them.

“Where’s Luna?”

“She spotted Yasmine and her friends on our way up and wanted to stop and chat with them,” Theo shrugged and grinned, “I said ‘hello’ but as soon as they started twittering about boys, I escaped.”

Draco snorted, “You’re lucky. Let me tell you about last night,” but before he could divulge his encounter with Allison, the door opened bringing Neville, Hannah, Daphne, Dean, Anthony, Luna, and Hermione into their midst.

“Did you all side-along in, then?” Theo teased as both he and Draco moved to greet their friends before wrapping their arms around their significant others, everyone chattering excitedly about the weekend before them.

“Hello, there,” silver eyes peered down into amber and blissful smiles tipped both pairs of lips as they gazed at one another. Hermione popped up on her toes to press a soft kiss to Draco’s lips, letting the world spin on without her for just a moment.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Anthony asked, clapping his hands together, his eyes bright as he looked expectantly around the group.

“I thought we could watch a movie,” Hermione informed them as she reluctantly broke the kiss, though she stayed in Draco’s embrace as she spoke, “I brought the DVD player with me and a couple of options to choose from.”

Her announcement was met with much enthusiasm and agreement and everyone rushed off to put their things away before gathering in the sitting area in front of the fireplace. The television they had used the previous year had been stored in Dean’s chamber, and they all watched as he levitated the large electronic device carefully across the common area, bringing it to a stop on the mantle just as he’d done before. Meanwhile, Hermione had dug the DVD player and discs out of her beaded bag. She spread the movies on the coffee table for perusal and discussion before turning to help Dean set everything up.

“Oh, wow,” Hannah glanced at the collection before her, “They’re all so different! How do we choose?”

“Well, I wanted to give a wide selection,” Hermione explained, “We’ve watched two Christmas movies together, so I didn’t get anything holiday related. Since those were a family film and a musical, I steered clear of those genres this time around.”

Her collection included some of the most well-known films in each category: Star Wars: A New Hope (sci-fi), Groundhog Day (comedy), Titanic (drama), Jurassic Park (action), and Silence of the Lambs (horror). The movies were passed around so everyone could read the descriptions on the back and look closely at the images there. Much discussion took place before Daphne made a reasonable suggestion.

“I would hate to watch something that Padma would really enjoy, so maybe we could hold off on Titanic and Groundhog Day. Would that be okay with everyone?”

Eight heads nodded and murmurs of agreement were made, so then it was just down to three choices, which still required extensive debate.

“I’m all for something with dean-o-sirs,” Theo piped up confidently, tossing the disk he was referring to back onto the table.

Hermione and Dean couldn’t quite stifle their amusement at his creative pronunciation of the main characters, which Neville commented on anyway.

“I thought they were called T-rocks?” he looked confusedly at Muggle experts in their group.

“T-Rex, Neville,” Hermione explained kindly, “Short for Tyrannosaurus Rex, and it’s one of the most well-known, and most dangerous dinosaurs to have walked the Earth.”

“And there’s a T-Rex in this movie?” Anthony piped up.

“Yeah, a vicious one,” Dean grinned mischievously.

“Let’s do that one, then” Daphne suggested, “I don’t think Padma would care much about scary extinct creatures.” Snorts and chuckles met her pronouncement as they all made their way to the table where dinner had just been laid out.

For the next hour or so, they all caught up with one another, sharing amusing stories about their coworkers, filling each other in on anything new that had occurred over the last month. Eventually, plates were emptied and magically cleared away, and a mad dash for the best seats was made (mostly by the wizards among them). As a nod to their first movie night ever, Hermione had brought along an assortment of candy almost identical to the ones she’d passed around before. With a teasing smirk, she settled herself next to Draco on one of the couches and held out a box of M&M’s.

“I think you’ll like these best,” she said as she placed them in his hand. She knew he remembered immediately when his eyes widened and flashed with pleased surprise before he swooped in and kissed her.

“That’s enough, you two,” Theo reprimanded from his spot on the thick carpet where his head was resting in Luna’s lap as she leaned against the other couch.

“Now, Theo,” the soft-spoken blonde carded her fingers through his hair and leaned down to place a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, “They haven’t seen each other in weeks.”

A petulant huff was all the response he gave as everyone else sniggered, and Draco pressed another, much louder kiss on his girlfriend’s lips before smirking at his fellow former-snake.

“It’s starting!” Hannah announced in an excited stage whisper, and nine pairs of eyes glued themselves to the screen as ominous music filled the air, shortly followed by a scene filled with heavily-armed men and large, metal equipment.

“Wait, what are those things they’re holding?” Anthony wanted to know.

“What kind of forest are they in?” Neville was curious.

“Is that a dino-rex in the big box?” Daphne inquired.

“Did he just _die_?” Theo was equally horrified and amazed.

Hermione and Dean shared an amused and exasperated look between themselves before she rattled off the answers in quick succession and he paused the movie.

“Those are weapons that emit electrical charges to stun something. They are on a tropical island. Yes, there’s a dinosaur in the box, and yes, it ate him.”

Dean interjected his two knuts as well, “There’s a whole lot of Muggle machinery and technology used, so try to just go with it and store up your questions for after, unless absolutely necessary. Otherwise, you’ll miss something important.”

“So, just to be clear, the dinosaurs are extremely dangerous, but the Muggles are interacting with them anyway?” Theo’s incredulous tone induced a round of sniggers.

“It’s a movie, Theo, remember? It’s not real,” Dean reminded him patiently.

“Yeah, but someone thought it up. They must think humans are rather daft on the whole if they’d do something like that,” he scoffed.

“That’s the whole point,” Hermione nodded firmly and Dean started the film once more.

Over the next two hours, the audience kept their questions and comments to themselves for the most part, with only the occasional gasp, shriek, and startled expletive breaking through their rapt attention. Draco steadily ate his way through two boxes of M&M’s, one box of Reese’s Pieces, a large bowl of popcorn, and a package of Twizzlers without even realizing it, though Hermione found his wide-eyed and mindless chewing to be rather adorable. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin at one point, and flung his arm around her at another, as if protecting her from the creatures on the screen. Neville had similar reactions with Hannah, and Theo had sat bolt upright at some point, clutching a pillow in front of him so that only his eyes were visible, though Luna looked like a portrait of serenity, her chin resting on his shoulder, a finger twirling one of her long blonde waves.

When it was over, Dean and Hermione moved to clean up and set things back to rights, but the other seven people in the room were frozen in their seats.

“Wait, wait,” Anthony was shaking his head, “What happened with the container that had the eggs or whatever? The one the guy dropped?”

“Are there other dinosaurs still alive on the island?” Hannah wondered.

“He’s going to prison, right? The old man?” Theo demanded.

“Those kids are going to need serious therapy,” Draco muttered, shaking his head.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to watch the sequel to find out,” Dean grinned widely.

“There’s a sequel?” Neville seemed mildly alarmed by the prospect.

“I think I need to watch something happy and uplifting before I could sit through another one of these,” Daphne admitted and everyone huffed with relieved agreement.

“We could watch something else now,” Hermione suggested, “It’s not even ten o’clock yet.”

“I’m not watching the Silent Sheep!” Theo informed them vehemently, “That looks like it would give me nightmares!”

This time, they all laughed loudly, though most agreed with his sentiment entirely. Hermione smiled knowingly and reached into her bag which she’d kept on the floor beside her seat, bringing out two more DVD cases with brightly colored covers.

“How about one of these?” she tossed the new offerings on the coffee table.

“Aladdin or Toy Story,” Hannah studied them both before announcing, “I think Padma would want to watch Aladdin with us, since she was Princess Jasmine for our Halloween party, right?” She looked at Daphne for confirmation, and the pretty witch nodded her affirmation.

“Toy Story it is, then!” Dean crowed happily, that being one of his favorite animated films, and immediately set about putting it in the player while everyone else grabbed more drinks and snacks, and shifted into new comfortable positions.

There were no screams of shock or whispered oaths for the duration of the cartoon, though several eyes were wiped and sniffles were heard as the credits rolled.

“I used to pretend my toys came to life when I wasn’t in the room,” Hermione admitted sheepishly and was surprised to find more than half of her friends nodding in understanding.

“Me, too!” Daphne agreed, “Of course, having magic meant I could get my dolls to do certain things, but it’s not like they were capable of anything beyond the specific spells or charms I cast. So I imagined they had their own magic to use when no one was looking.”

“I used to charm my Quidditch figures to play a match,” Draco shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘used to’, mate?” Neville teased, knowing full well that the young Flying Instructor still did that very thing as a means of teaching his students in a more visual way.

“Ha, ha,” the pale blonde drawled.

“I think I liked that T-rex better,” muttered Theo and everyone laughed as Anthony bonked him on the head with a pillow.

“Alright, now I really do think it’s time for bed,” Hannah stood and stretched, yawning widely before smiling at her housemates, “What time do we need to set up for Bill and Fleur’s party tomorrow?”

“I asked them to join us around half-past two, or even three o’clock. Whatever works best for them and Victoire. If we could have everything set up by two, that should be fine,” Hermione informed the group at large and was met with agreeable nods and sleepy grins.

“Then I’ll see you lot at breakfast,” Dean announced as he straightened up the cushions he’d been sitting on and walked towards his room with a wave. His exit was followed almost immediately by Anthony, Daphne, Neville, and Hannah, each calling out a goodnight and meandering off to their own quarters.

“I guess that’s our cue to turn in as well,” Draco cocked a brow at his girlfriend who was cleaning up the DVDs and generally tidying up the area before glancing at Theo who was still lying on the floor next to Luna. The lanky wizard emitted a groan before hauling himself up and extending a hand to the ethereal blonde, who accepted it with a beaming smile.

“Good night, you two,” Luna trilled at the other couple and Theo offered a jaunty salute as they headed off as well.

“You done being a House Elf yet?” Draco teased as Hermione spun around, hands full of candy boxes and butterbeer bottles. He strode over to her and took the collected items, placed them on the coffee table and cupped her face in his palms, chuckling at the look of indignation on her face. “You know they come through every night and clean up. If you do all the work, they’ll be very put out,” he brushed his lips against hers and felt her melt into him as she wound her arms up around his shoulders and ran her fingers through his hair.

Somewhere in the back of his now-fuzzy brain, he wondered if it would always be like this; if every kiss would illicit the kind of zinging spark that shot through him, if every touch would send delicious shivers up his spine, if every embrace would feel like coming home. He sincerely hoped so as he angled his head and deepened their kiss, letting his hands trail down her body to wrap around her waist, pulling her as close to him as he possibly could.

She peppered kisses across his jaw and down his neck, her breath tickling his ear as she whispered, “I have missed you.”

He dropped his head to her curls, breathing in the familiar apricot-vanilla scent of her, and answering with a raspy, “Me, too.”

“Walk me to my door?” she inquired sweetly as she pulled back to look at him, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks slightly pink. He nodded and grinned, slinging his arm around her shoulders as they strolled towards her chamber. Once there, he pulled her in for another hug, feeling completely content and at peace with the world as she snuggled into him.

“Remind me tomorrow to tell you about my mother’s ideas for the holidays,” Draco murmured, his cheek resting against the crown of her head. He felt her hum in response and, like the two previous weekends in the castle, warred with himself over his insistence of propriety when it came to their sleeping arrangements. The thought of falling asleep tangled up in her called to him like a Siren’s song, but he couldn’t bring himself to give in. Not here. Not yet. There were too many unknowns about his future and he didn’t want to complicate things that way, regardless of how much he wanted it – wanted her. So instead, he settled for another blissful, languid bit of snogging that left both of them breathless and more than a little mussed up, and only stopped because Daphne had exited her room to head for the girls’ bath. The pretty Pureblood giggled and smirked knowingly at them when she noticed their presence, and they took that as a sign to officially say goodnight.

“I love you,” Hermione whispered against his lips, her finger tracing the side of his face and he couldn’t stop the fluttering of his eyelids or the sigh that escaped.

“I love you,” he replied, letting himself get lost in her gaze for just a heartbeat or two longer before bestowing one final kiss on her, and squeezing her fingers as he stepped away. He walked all the way across the common area and had one foot over his threshold before he turned and found her leaning against her doorway, watching him. Even from that distance, her soft smile was radiant and made his heart swell. She gave a little wave, which he returned with a lopsided grin, and only then did she step inside and shut her door, leaving him staring at the spot she’d just vacated, wondering how on Earth he’d gotten so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! As promised, here is the extra chapter for this week, since I won't be posting any others until August 1st. I've also just posted a new one-shot entitled "Lingering Fascination" (Dramione, of course) and would love for you to check it out.   
> I still remember when Jurassic Park came out in theaters - I was watching with a friend and noticed someone was screaming when the little dinosaur with the frills around its face jumped out, only to figure out the screamer was me. Lol.   
> Wishing you all a good weekend - stay safe and healthy! And thank you, as always, for reading!


	32. A Sprinkling of Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoire's arrival is celebrated by the group and games are played as the weekend continues.

The Room was decked out in multiple soft shades of pink, green, and yellow on Saturday afternoon. The long, wooden table was covered with a white cloth and overflowing with tiered platters, trays, and dishes filled with an assortment of biscuits, tea cakes, bonbons, fruits, and a large punchbowl served as the centerpiece, holding a sparkling raspberry-colored beverage with clouds of cream floating on top and a smattering of opalescent bubbles. Two large, but not overbearing floral arrangements flanked the crystal container and pastel balloons were magically suspended in the air above.

Off to the left, one of the round tables often used for chess or card games had been draped in a matching cloth and now held a lovely display of gifts, and was flanked by two chairs where the new parents were expected to sit. A light grey, stuffed bunny had been enlarged to almost-human size and was sitting comfortably on one of the couches, while an equally big, pale purple hippo occupied another couch’s corner. In front of the fireplace stood the easel they’d used for many games, all set and ready for a baby-themed version of Pictionary, should Bill and Fleur feel up to it, and Dean had prepared another game, though he refused to divulge any details or give any hints as to what it might entail.

The occupants of the Room hung about, chatting amicably and passing the time as they waited for the guests of honor. Just a few minutes before three o’clock, the large, oak doors opened and the new family of three arrived.

“Hello, everyone!” Bill hollered in greeting, a wide smile stretched across his face. He was pushing a classic, pale blue, baby pram, and was followed by his beaming wife, whose arms were filled with a bundle in a pink blanket.

All ten of the young adults (for Padma had arrived just after breakfast that morning), made their way over with cautious excitement, not wanting to startle the infant, but more than a little eager to see the newest addition to the Weasley family. They huddled around the trio, cooing words of wonder and offering congratulations.

“Let me put her down so I can properly greet you,” Fleur offered after several moments. She turned and lay Victoire in her carriage and immediately set about embracing each of the witches and wizards standing nearby. “Thank you all, so much, for inviting us today,” her smile was radiant, if not a little tired, and both she and Bill spent the next handful of minutes catching up with each of their young friends. Once everyone had been sufficiently engaged, the group made their way over to the sitting area, the guest of honor still sleeping soundly in her rolling bassinet.

“Shall we do gifts, food, or games first?” Hermione directed her question to Bill and Fleur, but Theo answered before either of them could.

“I propose food, then gifts, more food, then games, and finishing up with food,” he waggled his dark brows and grinned as everyone laughed.

“Let’s do gifts first, since they’re already seated,” Daphne had directed the young couple to their appointed chairs by the gift table, and didn’t want to make Fleur get up again.

“Sounds good to me!” Dean agreed, settling into a spot on the couch right next to the stuffed hippo, and everyone else followed suit. 

“Is there any particular order we need to open them in?” Bill wondered and was assured that there was none, so he gestured for his wife to choose the first present. As she set about gently tearing off the paper, conversation flowed, mostly consisting of questions asked regarding the baby girl slumbering nearby.

“Oooh, zees is too sweet!” Fleur exclaimed as she held up a tiny, mint green dress with matching bloomers, a white collar embroidered with pink flowers and matching pink sun bonnet completing the look. “Thank you so much, Padma,” she beamed at the budding journalist who smiled and nodded towards the box.

“There’s something else in there, too.”

Fleur peeled back the tissue still inside and found a square picture book with a typewriter on the cover, a jumble of letters filling the sheet of paper sticking out of its top and a title declaring _Tap, Tap, Tap, Goes the Typewriter_.

“It’s filled with little rhymes supposedly written by a baby journalist,” Padma explained with a sheepish grin, “I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s brilliant!” Bill chortled, holding out a hand so he could see the book his wife was happily perusing. She passed it to him and began opening another gift as he read the story aloud to the eager audience who snickered and giggled at the silly and endearing tongue-twisters that accompanied the brightly-colored illustrations.

With no one in any rush, the new parents took their time opening and gushing over every present, thanking each giver repeatedly and talking about their plans to include the many outfits, toys, books, and general baby supplies in their daughter’s life. When what appeared to be the last gift had been unwrapped, little Victoire was now the proud (albeit unaware) owner of three sleepers, four dresses, two tiny pairs of shoes, three blankets, a wraparound pillow to help her sit up when she’s a bit older, five stuffed animals, a mobile of butterflies and flowers, a dozen books, a miniature set of gardening tools, a gigantic box of nappies, and a wooden rocking unicorn, complete with golden horn and silky mane. Bill and Fleur were just finished thanking everyone when Theo stood up rather abruptly.

“I, ummm, I have one more thing,” he held up a finger, bidding them to stay put as he rushed to his room, leaving his friends rather baffled.

“What is he,” Draco began, his eyes on Luna, but she just shrugged and smiled in that all-knowing way of hers, and in seconds, the lanky brunette was bustling back towards them with a fairly large square wrapped in brown paper floating in front of him.

“Theo, you already gave us something,” Fleur insisted kindly, gesturing to the unicorn that had come from him and Luna, along with a stuffed version, a blanket with tiny magical creatures embroidered all over it, and a picture book about the fanciful beasts.

“Yes, but this is not exactly for a _baby_ ,” he tried to explain, his cheeks turning pink as he set the item gently on the floor next to Bill, “It’s more, well… you’ll see.” He flapped his hands towards the gifts, indicating they should open it. They did and were greeted with the sight of a large, ornate and gilded frame containing a painted portrait of a lovely young woman in a silver and lace dress, with a gold sash draped across her. Murmurs of appreciation for the artistry of the piece were expressed by everyone, though the Weasleys turned curious gazes on their benefactor.

“Iz she someone we might know?” Fleur asked.

“She is Princess Victoire, daughter of King Louis XV of France, and a very, very distant ancestor of mine,” Theo explained. Surprised gasps met his pronouncement and wide eyes fixed on him as he continued, “I’ve attached the genealogy to the back of the frame so you can see exactly how the line descends, but in short, my great, great, great great-grandmother was born the seventh child of the King of France in 1733. According to all of history, she never married, which is true, but she did have a child out of wedlock after her expected marriage to the King of Spain never came to fruition.”

He paused, considering the most concise way to wrap up this unexpected tale, “That child was secreted away to a wealthy family here in Britain, where she was raised and later married the second son of the House of Nott. Once her own daughter from that marriage came of age, they traveled to France where the daughter met and eventually married a young man with the last name of Delacour.”

Silence reigned for several seconds as this news was digested, until Hermione, unsurprisingly, asked the first question.

“So you are distantly related to Fleur’s family, as well?”

Theo nodded, “It would appear so.” He smiled hesitantly at his former professor and his wife, clearly uncertain how this news would be received.

“Blimey,” Bill looked thunderstruck, but Fleur got up at once and embraced Theo with genuine delight, kissing him on both cheeks in her dramatic way and pulling back to stare at him intently.

“Zhis is magnifique,” she smiled warmly at the young man, “My muzzer has always said you can never ‘ave too much family.” She hugged him again, “Thank you, Theo, zhis is an amazing gift.”

He shrugged, clearly pleased but still embarrassed, “I figured you could tell her she’s descended from royalty someday, you know, if she likes pretending she’s a princess when she’s bigger.” He rubbed his neck with one hand while staring fixedly at the rug beneath his feet.

Bill hopped up to clap him on the back and shake his hand as Hermione, still awed by this bit of family trivia, turned to Draco, “It’s just like you and Charles Brandon!” The pale wizard snorted in amusement, but it was Theo who responded.

“Oh, he’s shown you his collection, has he?” a roguish smirk settled on his face now that the spotlight was off of him.

“Hermione happens to appreciate historical artifacts,” Draco sniffed in a superior way, but the conversation had piqued the interest of the rest of the party, and he was badgered into explaining some of his family’s connections as everyone made their way to the buffet of delicious treats that awaited.

Once they were sufficiently stuffed, Dean announced it was time for a game and drew their attention to the right side of the Room, where two round tables were set up, each containing a collection of glass jars, tiny silver spoons, small squares of paper, and a handful of pens.

“Alright,” their game-planner grinned as he rubbed his hands together, “This is a bit of a guessing game.” He walked over and picked up one of the jars, holding it up so everyone could clearly see the orange-colored contents inside, “All of these jars contain baby food – Muggle baby food. The kind you can buy at the grocers, and supposedly this Hipp brand is one of the best.” He shrugged as if that didn’t matter in the slightest as he gestured to jar he was holding, sporting a wide, white ribbon with a number ‘1’ on it, “As you can see, I have covered the label, so you won’t know exactly what’s in each jar, and instead, will refer to it by the number on the front.”

Everyone shuffled closer so as to examine the other items he’d laid out as he continued, “I’ve set up both tables exactly the same, so as to move everyone along more quickly, but each of you are responsible for your own answers. No cheating.” Dean pointed a finger menacingly at Theo, who tried to look offended. After explaining the rest of the game, he stepped back and let them each grab a pen and a piece of paper, not having accounted for the fact that several of his former housemates were still unfamiliar with the writing utensils. Neville stood there clicking the plastic thing over and over again with obvious enthusiasm, and Daphne kept making scribbles on her parchment in between her own series of clicks. Bill even seemed enthralled with the small invention, and though he tried to play it off, Hermione saw him studying it closely several times.

“You lot ready?” Dean asked after several minutes of jostling around the tables and a few lingering pen clicks. They all nodded eagerly and he gave them permission to begin. The task was simple: take a small spoonful from a jar and taste it, then write down your best guess for what type of food it was on the paper next to the corresponding number on the jar. Within the first three seconds, the atmosphere went from calm and amicably peaceful to boisterous and chaotic.

“What in Merlin’s name is this?” Anthony grimaced as he looked for a place to spit out whatever he’d just put in his mouth.

“Someone actually gives this to babies?” Hannah’s eyes were wide and she seemed very reluctant to swallow her spoonful.

“Oh, I can’t do this,” Padma whispered after sniffing the green mush sitting on her spoon.

“This isn’t actually that bad,” Draco admitted after testing a purple puree.

“Ugh, it has chunks in it!” Bill was properly horrified.

“This one must be a holiday treat,” Luna mused, pointing her spoon at a jar that contained a lumpy, beige concoction.

Dean was positively beside himself as he watched his friends. Since he had put the game together and clearly knew what each jar contained, he had asked Hannah if he could use her camera to take photos during the contest. She’d happily complied and he circled the groups at each table multiple times, catching a wide variety of expressions as he went.

“Did you try the orange one? It’s not completely awful,” Hermione offered the jar in her hand to Draco, who had just emitted a full-body shudder after swallowing something unappetizingly grey.

“Why don’t zhey make zheir own?” Fleur wondered after delicately wincing around a spoonful of something reddish in color.

This self-inflicted form of mild torture continued for several more minutes, until everyone had a taste from every jar, and all their numbers had been filled in with guesses.

“Now, trade papers with someone,” Dean instructed, “And we’re going to score your answers.” A few seconds of shuffling commenced before eleven sets of eyes were once again pinned on the dark-skinned wizard who brandished a scroll from his back pocket and unrolled it with a flourish. “Right, then, here’s the correct answers,” and he read the list as follows:

  1. pumpkin
  2. bananas with blueberries
  3. noodles with tomato
  4. beef
  5. apples with oatmeal
  6. peas
  7. carrots
  8. plums with biscuits
  9. broccoli with rice
  10. apricots



“Now, hand your paper back to its original owner and we’ll see who won,” Dean said and another round of rustling took place, followed by a bit of silence as everyone checked over their scores.

“That grey stuff was supposed to be beef?” Anthony was incredulous, and several others shared his wide-eyed horror.

“Those peas were awful,” Daphne shivered, Padma nodding vehemently at her side.

“Yes, the apples definitely reminded me of some sort of Christmas pastry,” Luna said thoughtfully, “Though I’m not sure the people who make this really know what pumpkins or apricots are supposed to taste like.” A round of sniggers met her statement as Dean pulled their attention back to himself.

“So, did anyone guess all ten jars correctly?” A resounding “no” was the unanimous response, so he forged ahead with a smirk, “Nine? Eight? Seven?”

“I got seven!” Neville piped up, obviously very pleased with his success, “I got everything except the beef, the noodles with tomato, and the apricots. Luna’s right, those tasted more like oranges.”

Since no one else got more than five (that distinction belonged to Bill, much to his amusement), the Herbologist-in-training received seven points on the scoreboard and a baby bottle filled with fudge flies from Honeydukes as his prize.

“I need to eat something that actually tastes good before we do anything else,” Theo groused as he stomped over to the buffet of treats, and though everyone laughed, they all followed him and immediately filled new plates with biscuits, tea cakes, fruit, and other much more enjoyable goodies. Once they all had their new snacks, the group settled back into the couches and chairs in the center of the Room and awaited instructions for the next game.

Since they were all familiar with Pictionary, there wasn’t much for Dean to explain, aside from the fact that all the words they’d be attempting to draw would be related to babies. Speaking of which, just as they were about to count off into teams, a tiny wail was heard from the pram at Fleur’s elbow. A hush fell over the small crowd and quiet noises of concern and wonder were made as Victoire was lifted from her carriage and held in the crook of her mother’s arm, so everyone could see her clearly. At just over a week old, her petite face was a delicate shade of palest pink, her head dusted with a fine layer of almost-white hair. Her button nose scrunched as she yawned, earning an adoring sigh from her enthralled audience, which turned into delighted gasps as she opened her dark blue eyes.

“Oh, she’s precious,” Hannah whispered.

“Look how tiny her fingers are,” Padma observed as one small hand emerged from under the blanket.

“Is anything wrong?” Anthony looked concerned and Fleur smiled at him as she responded.

“Not necessarily. She has only been asleep since right before we got ‘ere, but I will go check and make sure she doesn’t need to be changed or fed,” she glanced at Hermione, “Could I use your room?”

“Of course!” the petite brunette jumped up and pushed the carriage to her chamber, welcomed Fleur to use the space as long as she needed to, and quietly closed the door when she exited, making her way back to the party. Dean had offered to wait until Fleur returned, but Bill waved him off saying it would be perfectly fine for them to begin, since it might take a little while. Permission granted, they set about making teams and moving seats so they were sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table.

The sides wound up being almost identical to that of the very first Pictionary game over a year ago, with Hermione, Padma, Neville, Daphne, Draco, and Bill on the gold team, and Dean, Hannah, Anthony, Theo, Luna, and Fleur on the silver. Hermione couldn’t help remembering the hug Draco had bestowed on her when their team won, and once again marveled at how far they’d come in their relationship since then. It was not the moment for deep recollections, however, as Dean brandished packs of markers and a sizeable stack of clue cards. The timer was placed on the table, and after the flipping of a coin, the gold team was allowed to draw first.

A very long, loud, and utterly hilarious stretch of time followed, with points consistently being racked up by both teams. Since it was a specific theme, Dean had forgone the board and just made the rule that the first team to reach fifty points would be declared the winner. At forty-eight to forty-seven, Neville was being severely berated for his unrecognizable attempt at a pram, and Hannah was completely baffled by the clue on her card.

“It’s right over there!” Draco bellowed, gesturing to the baby carriage that was indeed parked only a few feet away, much to Neville’s dismay, sending everyone into fits of raucous laughter as they compared the real thing to his rendering, which looked more like a watermelon perched on clock faces.

“I don’t know what this is,” the former Hufflepuff whispered to Hermione, who could understand why the other witch might be unfamiliar with a sippy cup. She explained as best she could, much to her teammates’ irritation.

“How’s that fair?” Daphne complained, “I didn’t get any help with the teething ring!”

“Me telling her what it is doesn’t automatically mean they’ll recognize what she draws,” Hermione insisted, shrugging as she sat down again, her words proven correct after just sixty seconds more. Though Hannah’s version of a sippy cup might have been understood by a mother of small children, no one on the silver team had any idea what it was.

“That’s a cup?” Theo snarked, cocking his head to the side and studying the oddly shaped object on the drawing pad, “Looks more like a Gnome’s head with a pointy hat.”

“Yes, well, your pair of booties looked like bananas, so, there’s that,” Hannah retorted, sticking her tongue out at the lanky jokester and earning herself the same in return.

The gold team scored their forty-ninth point with Bill’s impressive depiction of a lullaby that included music notes, and a sleeping baby. Likewise, the silver team earned their forty-eighth with Luna’s version of a bottle, though no one quite understood why she’d drawn bubbles all around it, nor did she explain.

Draco was up and the game was on the line, just one more point to go. He swiped a card from the top of the dwindling pile and read it. His brow furrowed and he read it again. And again. He looked at Dean with obvious confusion etched across his face and the enthusiastic game-planner came to his side to see what clue had his friend so stumped. A wide grin spread across his friendly face and he snorted with amusement.

“Want me to explain?”

“I think that would be best,” Draco snarked as he smirked at his team who were waiting on the edge of their seats. The pair of wizards turned their backs to the group for a handful of seconds as Dean murmured whatever helpful description he could come up with. At one point, the tall blonde’s head whipped around, his brows almost disappearing into his fringe as he gaped at his dark-skinned housemate.

“You’re joking,” he barked.

“Nope. Not in the slightest,” Dean chortled, clearly enjoying whatever was taking place.

As Dean made his way back to his seat, Draco scrubbed his face with his hand, his cheeks slightly pink as he glared at the card in his hand one more time. Tossing a pleading look at his team, he grabbed a couple of markers and poised to start in front of the easel.

“Go!” demanded Theo as he turned the timer over.

Draco drew what was clearly a baby, wearing only a diaper, on one side of the paper. On the other, he outlined a triangular shape with a blunt end.

“A baby shovel,” Neville offered.

“A cot?” Padma asked.

“A slide?” Bill wondered.

Draco grimaced and drew tears on the baby’s cheeks and a frowning mouth.

“Cranky baby!” Daphne exclaimed.

Now, he added squiggles coming out of the triangle, so it looked more like a tube of toothpaste.

“Teething?” Hermione wondered, but Draco shook his head as he started frantically drawing arrows pointing at the nappy the infant wore. He followed up by circling the other object multiple times and jabbing the paper with the marker, first the baby, then the tube.

“Soap? Or Lotion?” Padma tried.

“It’s something about the nappy,” Hermione mused and Draco pointed forcefully at her, his eyes wide as if trying to impart a silent message. He tapped the sad face once more.

“Five, four, three,” the silver team was chanting excitedly.

“Diaper rash cream!” Hermione shrieked.

“Yes!” Draco shouted, tossing the markers into the air just as the timer ran out. The gold team, victorious once again, scrambled over one another to gather in a celebratory huddle in front of the easel, hopping about and cheering with glee.

“It’s rigged. This Pictionary game is rigged, I tell you,” Theo groused, though his eyes glinted with teasing and everyone laughed as they set about cleaning it all up. Just like the first time, Draco had Hermione in his arms, though this time he was in no hurry to let her go as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her smiling lips.

“Imagine if I’d done that last year?” he murmured in a low voice, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he gazed into her warm, brown eyes.

“I think I might have fainted from surprise,” Hermione giggled.

“I almost did when you kissed me after the Christmas party,” he admitted and her giggle became a full-blown laugh.

“No, you didn’t. You had to have known I would kiss you when you gave me that picture.”

He shook his head, “Honest-to-Merlin, I had no idea that was coming. I simply wanted to give you that silly little gift and hoped that you’d understand that I liked you, but I wasn’t expecting anything of it. I was prepared for you to laugh at me, or shut the door in my face, or something.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him with an intensity that made his heart skip, “Well, _I_ knew, so I guess that’s all that matters, yeah?”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s brow furrowed.

“I had already decided, after you hugged me for your Secret Santa gift, that the next time I found myself alone with you, I was going to kiss you,” she shrugged and her face took on an impish expression, “I’m not usually one to make the first move, but I was tired of waiting.”

“Tired of...” slate-grey eyes had blown wide, “I’d been wanting to kiss you for _weeks_ by that point, but I was quite sure you’d hex my bits off, even though we’d become friends by then.”

“No,” Hermione wrapped her arms firmly around his waist and laid her head against his chest, “No hexing would have taken place. But it’s nice to know I wasn’t the only one pining away.”

A low rumble came from Draco as he squeezed the witch in his arms a little tighter. To think that they could have found this between them sooner… but he knew, truly, that both of them had needed to reach a point where they were ready for something more than friendship, and he honestly believed that everything had happened when and how it was meant to. He kissed the top of her head and let out a contented sigh before stepping back and smirking at her.

“Suppose we should help clear up,” he glanced around the common area where the rest of their group was busy helping Bill and Fleur gather up all their gifts, cooing over the again-sleeping Victoire, and making plates of goodies for them to bring back to their apartment. Hermione grinned and nodded before popping up to kiss him quickly, then scurried off to see what needed to be done. He watched her for a moment as she chatted animatedly with Anthony who was cleaning up the baby food game and found himself once again flooded with gratitude for the chances he’d been given over the past year, and filled with a warmth that signified peace and hope and all number of things he’d once thought his life would never contain again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! (Said in a loud, cheerful voice - not the creepy tone from Poltergeist. Lol.) I hope this Monday finds everyone safe and healthy and off to a positive start with their week. Thank you all so much for your continued interest in this story; I appreciate my readers more than I can explain and truly enjoy hearing your thoughts and questions as the journey of our favorite characters continues :) Side note - I totally remember the questionable taste and consistency of certain types of jarred baby food from when my kids were little and peas were THE WORST.


	33. Let the Games Continue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The housemates continue their quest, Padma shares and update, and Theo confides in Draco.

Later on Saturday evening, once everything from the baby shower had been cleared away and the Room put to rights again, and everyone’s sugar buzz had worn off, the ten housemates gathered for their third Game Night of the year. As promised, Dean set the Dungeons and Dragons game back up exactly as it had been in October, and gave everyone ample time to reacquaint themselves with the game and its intricacies. Before they had all even settled into their seats, Theo was asking questions.

“Okay, so what exactly are Kobolds? And what can they do? Also, is your _class level_ the same as your _character level_? And what about psionic power? How does that work? And can you,” but Dean finally cut him off, holding up a hand to stall the barrage of questions as he chortled and shook his head in mild disbelief.

“Someone’s been reading up on the game, yeah?” he cocked a brow at Theo who scowled with impatience.

“Yes, I got the _Player’s Handbook_ and the _Dungeon Master’s Guide,_ and I’ve read them both twice through now, but I’m still not sure how,” but he was interrupted again, this time by Draco.

“How did you get copies of those? Did you find a Muggle store or…” pewter eyes narrowed in curious suspicion.

Theo huffed an exasperated sigh and waved his hand as if batting away an irritating fly, “Yes, I went to one of those cosmic book stores in London on Halloween. Figured no one would look twice at my robes that day. I asked the clerk if he had any books on the game, and he pointed me to an impressive selection, and even suggested I start with those two. So I did.” He glared at Draco in mock indignation, “Happy now?”

Draco sniggered, “Sure, mate. Just never thought you’d venture out there alone, is all.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Theo informed him with a sniff, “Xeno was with me.”

At that bit of news, eight of the players burst into laughter around the table, and even Luna was smiling indulgently at her dramatic boyfriend.

“Yes, Daddy did say he found the whole adventure to be very interesting,” she assured him airily while patting his hand and clearly trying not to laugh. It was nothing against the eccentric writer, but no one would ever consider Xenophilius Lovegood to be a helpful companion for a jaunt into the Muggle world, a truth even his own daughter was well aware of.

“I’m amazed you both got home the same day and in one piece,” Draco teased and Theo met his snarky gaze with a look of smug superiority.

“We’re perfectly capable of a great many things, Mister I-Know-More-Than-You-Because-My-Girlfriend-Is-A-Muggleborn.” This response sent everyone into a new round of snorts and sniggers, but Theo was determined to have his questions answered and launched back into his inquisition of Dean without missing a beat, “Do you think it’s better to take the standard set of ability points? Or total the top three from six rolls of the dice?”

Dean smiled patiently and promised that they would cover all of Theo’s concerns and queries in due time, and that he was more than welcome to ask questions as different situations arose, but that they should probably actually start playing so everyone else could participate, too. The lanky brunette nodded firmly, agreeing that Dean’s plan was a solid one, and positioned himself at the edge of the table with severe concentration etched across his features.

They jumped right in, picking up where they had left off the month before, and though the pace was probably a bit slower than more seasoned players would follow, everyone was fully immersed in the alternate magical world spread out before them. Several deep conversations occurred, comparing and contrasting the abilities of the characters versus real witches and wizards, as well as contemplating the merits of limitations or abilities in each realm if they were swapped. The young men around the table debated tactical plans and logistics at almost every turn, and when their rabbit holes ran deep, the witches often started their own side discussions about unrelated topics.

“How is Parvati?” Hermione asked Padma as Theo and Anthony launched into another very serious and obviously imperative dialogue about whether or not the party should split up, while Draco and Neville tried to figure out if a newly obtained potion was safe or not.

The dark-haired Ravenclaw’s face lit up, a drastic contrast to the last time she’d talked about her twin sister, “She’s doing much, much better!”

“That’s wonderful,” Hermione beamed in response, “What changed?”

“Remember that Enchanted Assistance service you told me about last month?” Padma asked and the petite brunette nodded, “I went there the Tuesday after our weekend here, and spoke with the director about the kinds of help they were looking for, and told her about my sister. She described several newer opportunities she thought might be a good fit, and that Saturday I brought Parvati with me to meet her as well. She wasn’t very happy with me; I had dragged her out of the house under the guise of a shopping trip." A sheepish look crossed her face but she shrugged and continued, “It worked, though. After hearing about the people asking for help from the agency, I think she started to realize she had much more to be thankful for than she was willing to admit. The next day, Sunday, she went with Eugenia, that’s the director, to meet the Robbins family.”

Padma paused for a moment as if putting something together, “Wasn’t Demelza Robbins in Gryffindor?”

Hermione searched her memory and recalled that yes, the witch in question had been a year younger than herself, and had played on the house Quidditch team when Harry had been captain. She told Padma as much, and earned an understanding nod as her friend went on.

“Well, Demelza has two older siblings; her brother, Caedmon, plays for the Wimborne Wasps, and her sister, Ismene, was working on a potions’ mastery leading up to the war. Their parents own a small apothecary in Ottery St. Catchpole, where they live, but it was targeted by Death Eaters about a month before the Final Battle. She happened to be there when they attacked, and was blinded by a curse that rebounded off the glass cabinets her father stores his finished potions in. It apparently had massive unbreakable and anti-shattering spells on it, so the curse ricocheted off it and hit her in the side of the head. She was lucky she survived, but she’s lost her sight permanently.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Hermione felt tears prickling in the corners of her own eyes, unable to imagine the horror the family had endured, and the traumatic loss Demelza’s sister was still dealing with.

“They’ve rebuilt the shop, and are doing very well on the whole, but Ismene is still struggling, understandably. Their mother stayed home with her several months, but once the shop was fully functioning again, she needed to get back to work. Demelza was here for school, so Ismene spent most of her time alone, which just made her feel even worse. They reached out to Enchanted Assistance at the end of the summer, when Demelza left to start a mastery in Astronomy at Beauxbatons. The first two people they were paired with didn’t work out, and Parvati is the third.”

“How is it going so far?” Hermione wondered.

“Really, really well,” Padma smiled and the relief on her face was evident, “I think for my sister, spending time with someone who has had to adjust to such a drastic change in their life; a change that has left them limited in some ways; has forced her to acknowledge that she is still physically whole and capable of whatever she wants to attempt. No, it doesn’t erase the grief Lavender’s loss has wrought, but it shouldn’t keep her from living her life. For Ismene, having someone who experienced their own loss during the war has helped her open up about her daily frustrations and struggles.”

“I’m so pleased, for both of them. I hope it continues to work out,” the big-hearted Gryffindor meant it with deepest sincerity, and Padma knew that full well.

“I think it will. They spend Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings together, though Parvati has started getting home later in the afternoon now. They’ve even made plans for tomorrow, I believe, which shows they truly enjoy each other’s company. It’s given Parvati something to focus on, not to mention a new friend, and she feels needed, which is good. While her main focus is helping Ismene become more independent, the friendship they’re establishing is equally important.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Hermione agreed wholeheartedly, “It sounds like this arrangement is helping both of them move in a better, more positive direction.”

“Mmhmm,” Padma hummed, nodding vigorously, “Parvati was even saying…” But the next bit of news was interrupted by a voice drawling over their quiet conversation.

“If you two, lovely ladies would like to turn your attention back to our quest,” Draco arched a brow in mock disapproval, “We’ve just managed to locate a secret passageway, and both Theo and Hannah have unlocked their next level of abilities.” He swept his hand in a grand, dramatic gesture over the board, causing both witches to laugh as they shifted their focus back to the game at hand while quietly promising to continue their discussion later.

They played for hours, pausing only to eat a light supper of sandwiches and chips, provided by the Kitchen Elves, and eventually indulging in the array of snacks the two Hogwarts staff members had provided as per usual. As the game went on, Dean and Hermione were peppered with questions about other Muggle assumptions and ideas about magic. Descriptions of beloved fairytales, namely Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, were shared, as well as examples of more extensive stories, such as the Chronicles of Narnia, and The Hobbit series. Television shows like “Bewitched,” and movies ranging from “Mary Poppins” to “Hocus Pocus” were included in the list. The last one garnered a great deal of interest and Hermione promised to round up a copy of the film depicting three sisters, all witches, and the crazy antics surrounding their return to the mortal realm.

Theo had been right pleased with the amount of knowledge he was able to impart to his housemates regarding the more classic literary works and spent the rest of the evening referencing the characters from his beloved Tolkein novels as the game continued.

“I do believe Gandalf would summon assistance from the eagles at this point,” he huffed during a particularly tense moment, only to have Neville throw a half-eaten biscuit at him.

“You just said last turn that Gandalf was all-powerful and didn’t need help from anyone!” the amicable gardener teased.

“Yes, well, in those circumstances, that was true, but now,” he heaved a great sigh and shook his head with comical despair, “Clearly now he would be just as bad off as he was when he fell with the Balrog.”

“Wait, was the Balrog the great nasty red beast with the fire tail? Or the man who could turn into a bear?” Daphne was confused.

“Or the crazy brute that went after the Dwarf King?” Anthony chimed in.

“Isn’t he the evil wizard?” Neville’s brow furrowed.

Theo rolled his eyes in exasperation, “No, no, no. Sauron is the evil wizard, Azog is the brute, Beorn is the skinchanger. The Balrog is the one with the fire tail,” he chuckled, “Have we got the bad guys all sorted out now?”

“Was the bear-man a bad guy?” Padma couldn’t remember.

“No, he helped them, though he was a bit grumpy,” Theo was quick to defend the fictional character.

“I’m about to be a bit grumpy if we don’t get going,” Draco huffed, “It’s my turn and I’d like to finish this task so I can catalog my treasure!”

Everyone laughed as they settled back in to focus on the next bit, though the hour was late and after a full day of fun and games, more than a few yawns were stifled. After thoroughly exploring the dungeon and creating what Dean finally proclaimed to be a sufficiently detailed map of the place, they decided to stop there and pick up again next month. They all agreed that sleeping in was a marvelous idea, and Hannah left a note for the Kitchen Elf that was sure to pop in at some point, wondering where they all were. A light lunch was requested, since their Second Years would be arriving for the much-anticipated pizza party in the evening, and most of the recent graduates were secretly planning to eat an obscene amount of the Muggle food.

Good nights were hollered, doors were closed, and after a thorough bit of snogging with his witch, Draco was making his way towards his chamber when Theo exited the boys’ bath. Instead of heading back towards Luna’s room, the lanky brunette approached his childhood friend instead.

“Have you got a minute?” he asked, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“Of course,” Draco nodded and cocked his head towards the couches, but Theo jerked his chin in the direction of the tall blonde’s bedroom instead. In silent agreement, they strode across the common area and over the threshold, Draco closing the door softly behind them. “What’s up?”

Theo was pacing, which meant he was worried or upset, and Draco was completely confused since he’d not noticed anything out of sorts in his former housemate the entire time they’d been at the castle that weekend. He knew, though, that pestering him for an answer wouldn’t work, and that Theo needed time to marshal his thoughts before speaking, so he simply sat on his bed, settling against the pile of pillows, and waited. After a minute or so, the pacing stopped and Theo turned to face him, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, and let out a long, heavy sigh.

“Remember I told you I wanted to give a bit of money to Xeno for the magazine?” he finally managed to get out, and Draco nodded as he recalled that conversation two months prior. Theo resumed wearing a path on the floor as he continued, “I finally received word from my solicitor this past Thursday that all the artwork and properties I’d requested to have sold had gone through. The money has all been collected and deposited into my account. I was considering making this a Christmas present of sorts, perhaps transferring the gold to Xeno’s account a day or two before and giving him the transaction scroll.” He waved his hand airily, “Wrap it in a gold ribbon or what have you.”

Draco chuckled lightly, still not sure what had his friend so worked up, if everything was going so well. He watched as Theo retraced his steps three more times before looking up and when he did, his dark eyes seemed filled with panic. He threw both hands up in the air and exclaimed, “He’s retiring!”

Stunned silence filled the space as Draco wrapped his mind around this unexpected bit of news, now understanding what had the other wizard in such a state.

“What do you mean, retiring? He’s not old – not even close!” A sobering thought occurred to him, “He’s not sick or anything, is he?”

“No, no, he’s in perfectly fine health. In the prime of his life, as he says, which is precisely why he wants to quit running the magazine and travel the world!” Theo was completely exasperated and more than a little overwhelmed. “He pulled me aside Friday morning, while Luna was out in the garden tending to the Dirigibles, and told me he knows the Quibbler and, more importantly, his daughter, will be in perfectly good hands with me. Said he wants to sit down with both of us when we get back, to go over specifics, but that while we were gone this weekend, he was going to be finalizing some things, putting it all in our names.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned, “I don’t know the first thing about running a business or printing the magazine. All I do is write stories about magical creatures!” He started pacing again.

Draco considered all of this for a minute before offering his thoughts, “For starters, I don’t really think Lovegood knows all that much about running a business either.” He gave a wry chuckle, “And you and Luna have done a fantastic job giving that magazine a more professional, better organized, more interesting look over the last few months. I think you two know exactly what you’re doing.” He paused and thought a bit more before asking, “Are you concerned about what this means for you and Luna? Or upset that you can’t really gift him the money like you’d planned?”

“All of it, I think,” Theo admitted with a grimace, “The past five months have been amazing; traveling around with her, following incredible creatures, writing articles and working with Xeno, living with them in that crazy house.” He chortled fondly and shook his head, “I haven’t felt so solidly grounded yet so completely free in a long time. Maybe in my whole life. They’re the first real family I’ve had since my childhood days with the Greengrasses, and I’ve known for a while now that Luna’s it for me.” He stopped his manic movement and turned a pleading, helpless look on Draco, “I just wasn’t expecting this next, major step in my life to happen so soon. I thought I had time to figure things out a bit more, time to decide what to do with the Manor, time to properly propose to Luna.” He shrugged and raised his hands in an empty gesture, “I don’t really know what to do now.”

“Well,” the pale wizard spoke slowly as he contemplated all Theo had shared, “I don’t think you have to rush into things quite as hurriedly as you might be assuming.” He met Theo’s wide-eyed stare with a calm, steady one of his own, “Even if Xeno wanted to pack up and leave tomorrow, it doesn’t mean everything else has to change immediately. You can still do all those other things, and whatever else you deem important, while running the Quibbler and managing the house and garden and menagerie of plants and creatures they surely have running amok over there.” He injected a bit of teasing into his tone, hoping to quell some of the other wizard’s fears, and it seemed to work. Theo’s shoulders sagged in relief as he listened, and the frown disappeared from his handsome face.

“You’re right, mate,” he nodded firmly, leaning against the dresser in a much more casual stance than he’d entered the room with, “One day at a time, yeah?”

“Exactly.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

They grinned at each other for a moment before Theo shoved himself off the polished piece of furniture and strode to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and turned back to Draco, who had started rummaging around in his bag, pulling out whatever he needed to get ready for bed.

“You got everything all planned out for you and Hermione?” he arched a brow curiously.

“Not even close,” Draco scoffed, “But I don’t see any sense in making any plans until I’m done with my sentencing. I have no idea what I’ll be doing once this school year is up, and I still have the whole of next year to go before I’m free. I want to have a job, or at least a solid prospect of one, and I want to be completely done with this probationary period before I approach her about marriage.”

“You think she cares about that?” Theo was pretty sure he knew the answer, but wanted to hear his friend’s take on it all the same.

Draco shook his head and shrugged, “I’m sure she’d say she doesn’t, but I do. I don’t want her to have to say she’s engaged to a convict; the press would have a field day with that.”

“It’s not like you’re still in Azkaban, mate,” Theo tried to reason with him, but the steely glare Draco pinned him with brooked no argument so he sighed and cocked his head, “I understand, I really do, but I think you’re putting more weight on this than you need to. I think she’d marry you in a heartbeat if you asked.”

“She might, but I want to be free and clear before I take that step.”

“I get it. It’s one of the reasons I sold off so much of the estate. I don’t want all that still tied to me. Though it’s a lot easier to rid myself of oil paintings and holiday villas than a Ministry sentence, I suppose.”

Draco nodded vehemently, “Exactly.”

Theo knew there was nothing more to say on the subject, so he thanked his housemate once again for helping him get over his mental hurdles before exiting the room and making his way back to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, soft-spoken witch who’d captured his heart so completely and turned his world upside down in the best possible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys... this is where it starts to get good. It's been sweet and fun so far, as they've adjusted to life beyond school and have continued to build relationships and all, but now we're wading into deeper waters. I'm so excited! There will be some heavy conversations, some serious moments, and even a bit of angst and drama in the chapters to come (gleefully twiddling my fingers together, "let it begin, let it begin!"). Thank you all so much for staying on this crazy train with me - I appreciate it more than I can say!


	34. Pizza Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Years arrive for the much-anticipated pizza party, and a celebrity joins their ranks.

Sunday afternoon approached a little quicker than the housemates had expected, and after a late, lazy morning, it seemed to dawn on all of them that their young friends would be arriving in a very short amount of time and they hadn’t finalized plans for their evening with them.

“We need to order the pizza!” Hermione exclaimed when she looked at her watch and saw that it was already half-past three. While most people would think they still had plenty of time to complete such a common task, when you're currently sitting in a remote castle in the highlands of Scotland, and (more importantly) dealing with the specifications of the magical world, such a thing could take quite a bit of time and maneuvering.

“I told Potter I’d floo him at four. He seemed to think that was plenty of time,” Draco replied lazily from his lounging spot on the couch beside her. While she gaped comically at him, obviously surprised he’d thought that far ahead, Theo interjected with a much more imperative query.

“What kind are we getting?”

Everyone stopped whatever they were doing, whatever conversations they were engaged in, to consider this weighty question.

“At least two cheese, maybe even three,” insisted Hannah, “Who knows how many of the Seconds have had it before?”

“Pepperoni, for sure,” Dean added, “And sausage!”

“Get at least two with veggies,” Daphne requested.

“But no mushrooms!” hollered Neville, and a pillow was thrown at his head.

“I like mushrooms!” Anthony argued, snickering at the annoyed look on Neville’s face.

“Absolutely no pineapple,” Hermione stated firmly and Draco gasped in mock horror, knowing full well that it was Kreacher’s favorite and that she often tolerated the offending topping for the sake of showing the elf how much she appreciated him. In response, she poked him in the side and he jumped with a yelp that earned him a satisfied smirk.

“How many of us are there?” Padma wondered.

“Thirty-two if they all come, thirty-four if Bill and Fleur join us,” Anthony provided a quick tally.

“Okay, we’re ordering from Geppetto’s again, and their large is a sixteen-inch with ten slices. Let’s say everyone eats two slices,” Dean started figuring.

“Oi, I will _not_ be only eating two slices, thank you very much!” Theo bellowed from his favorite spot on the floor. “Just go ahead and plan a whole pie’s worth for me.”

“Theo, you’ll be sick as a dog if you eat that much,” Daphne warned him.

“She’s right,” Luna nodded sagely as she smiled dreamily down at him, “You’ll wind up with another infestation of Nargles and more than a little indigestion.”

“I don’t plan to eat it all at once,” he scowled, “I’ll save it for my midnight snack.”

Everyone laughed at the disgruntled look on his face, but Dean did up the slice count to three per person as the discussion resumed.

“So, that’s over one hundred slices. Do you think we could get away with ten pizzas? Or should we do eleven, just to be safe?” the cheerful Gryffindor looked to his friends for input.

“Let’s get eleven, and we can let Bill and Fleur keep the leftovers,” Hannah suggested, and everyone agreed, except Theo.

“I’m taking my leftovers home!” he declared from his prone position and the Neville promptly flung the pillow at him.

Dean handed the parchment he’d been dutifully writing it all down on to Draco, who would be making the floo-call to Harry from McGonagall’s office. He took it and stood, stretching as he did, and turned to offer his hand to Hermione.

“Want to walk with me?” he flashed her favorite lopsided grin and she immediately hopped up and entwined her fingers with his as they made their way out of the Room.

The corridors were quiet, as it was Sunday and most students were hanging out in their common rooms, or studiously working in the library. The young couple strolled along, simply enjoying this time together as they followed the familiar path. As they were nearing the Headmistress’ chambers, Draco slowed his steps and Hermione turned to see what had him stalling. His slate-grey eyes flickered around the stone walls and floor, a small smile quirking his lips before he met her curious gaze.

“This was where you asked me to write to you, before we all went home for Christmas last year,” he stated by way of explanation, “I don’t think you have any idea what a complete circus my brain was that day.” He chuckled and shook his head, remembering how he’d stumbled over his words, how he’d been filled with equal parts terror and elation at the idea of her invitation and what it might mean.

Hermione giggled and nodded, “I do remember you being quite a bit less eloquent than usual. You seemed to have difficulty processing my request, and at first I thought you might not want to write to me.”

“Nothing could be farther from the truth,” he grabbed her hand and pulled it up to kiss her knuckles, “I was simply stunned that you’d asked, that you wanted to hear anything I had to say, or learn anything about me.”

“Well, I figured that out when you started rambling, which you only tend to do when you’re nervous,” she smirked and twisted their still-clasped hands so she could kiss his in turn.

He lost himself in her sparkling, chocolate gaze for a heartbeat or two before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers, the world around them fading away for several glorious seconds.

“Coach Malfoy, is that really necessary?” a voice popped their blissful bubble and they turned to see Christopher leaning against the wall, smirking widely at the two of them.

“Do you need something?” Draco huffed out in exasperation and Hermione grinned at the young boy.

“Nope, just didn’t expect to find an esteemed faculty member snogging his girlfriend in the hallway,” the sandy-haired Hufflepuff’s eyes danced with mirth.

“Who’s snogging someone, Mister Henson?” a very familiar, clipped tone came from the other direction, and the now-blushing couple spun around to find the Headmistress walking towards them, apparently having just left her office.

“No one, Headmistress McGonagall,” Christopher jerked to attention, flashed Draco and Hermione a wicked grin, and scampered off down the corridor before he could be questioned further. With him having escaped, the formidable witch turned her piercing gaze to her former students, a narrow brow arched in question.

“Oh, well, we were just on our way to your office, Headmistress,” Draco stuttered out, gesturing needlessly towards the archway that held the curved stairs.

“Yes, we need to floo Harry to order the pizzas for our Second Years,” Hermione was much more collected and smiled genuinely at her favorite teacher, who didn’t seem able to maintain such a firm stance after all.

“Ah, yes, I recall that request,” she nodded at Draco, her mouth twitching in what could almost be described as a smile, “You are welcome to go up; I need a word with Professor Slughorn and then I’ll be back. I assume Mister Potter will be delivering the pizzas through my floo, as well?”

“Yes, if that’s alright,” Draco asked and was rewarded with another succinct nod as McGonagall stepped around them, her voice trailing behind her as she strode off in search of her colleague.

“You’re lucky I can’t deduct house points from you anymore, Mister Malfoy.”

They remained rooted to the spot for a few seconds before Hermione dissolved into a fit of mortified giggles, and Draco huffed with indignation.

“Why would she only have docked them from _me_? You were clearly here, and willingly participating, I might add!”

“I think she just meant since you’re still here, you know, living in the castle, but no longer a student,” she tried placating him and was rewarded with a disdainful sniff, though he took her hand and gently tugged her towards the office.

Once there, Hermione copied the pizza order onto a second piece of parchment (since Dean’s was messy and crinkled and full of tally marks regarding how many slices they’d need) and handed it through the green flames to her best friend, who’d been chatting with Draco since they’d summoned him at Grimmauld. Harry promised to place the order immediately and would deliver it to them as soon as possible.

“I added a small pizza, half cheese, and half sausage and mushroom,” she told Draco as they made their way back towards the Room.

“Why? Do you think we won’t have enough?”

“No, I made a note for him to leave that one on Professor McGonagall’s desk,” she shrugged lightly and smirked, “Consider it a means to earn back some of those imaginary house points she took earlier.”

He chuckled wryly and swooped in to kiss her on the cheek, though they refrained from slowing their pace or stealing anymore kisses before arriving back at their old dormitory where the rest of their friends were busy setting up tables and chairs for the larger group that would be gathering in just about an hour.

ooOoo

The Second Years had all arrived and were catching up with their mentors in the noisy, animated way they typically did, when the door to the Room opened once more, bringing a dark-haired, bespectacled wizard and a towering pile of cardboard boxes into their midst.

“Hey, everyone!” Harry hollered as he carefully directed the floating stack to the long table that had been cleared for that very purpose. His own former classmates immediately returned the greeting as they gathered around him, though most of the younger gang remained rooted wherever they were standing or sitting, eyes wide, jaws slack, as they took in the appearance of the Wizarding World’s hero. Only a few of them, like Andrew, had ever actually met him before, and it was clear the shine of his celebrity star had not dimmed at all in their eyes yet.

Hermione met her best friend’s gaze and he rolled his eyes in good-natured exasperation as he shook Anthony’s hand and gave Daphne a hug. She arched a brow in silent question, asking permission, and he nodded with a smirk.

“Alright, everyone can get in line and grab a plate. Once you’ve got your food, find a seat with your mentor and partner from last year. Don’t forget drinks, and there’s crisps and biscuits and other snacks on the table in front of the fireplace,” she instructed the group at large. Normally, she didn’t really care who they all sat with, but Harry had just agreed to stick around and interact with his young admirers, so she figured it would be less awkward if at least one of his peers was present in each grouping.

The eleven, large boxes were flung open, and the smell of piping hot pizza filled the air. When it had all been said and done, their order consisted of three cheese, two pepperoni, two with an assortment of veggies (including mushrooms), one with an assortment of veggies (without mushrooms), two with multiple kinds of meats, and one that seemed to have absolutely everything on it – meats, veggies, extra cheese, and even…

“Is that _pineapple_?” Hermione looked horrified and immediately sought out her current flat mate to glare at him. Harry caught her eye from across the room, where he was sitting with Luna, Theo, and their four charges, and raised his own slice of the offending pie in salute to her, winking before turning his attention back to them.

“You don’t have to eat it, you know,” Draco teased, nudging her with his elbow.

“I have no intention of going anywhere near it,” she muttered and he snorted at her consternation. She selected a piece of pepperoni and glanced around to see where her trio of Seconds had settled, finding them over on the left side of the room, at a table near Neville and his pair. “Time to go introduce my group to the famous Harry Potter,” she giggled, “He hates being put on the spot like this.”

Draco laughed and nodded in understanding, “I know. He’s told me several stories about the lengths to which he’s gone to avoid members of his endless fan club.”

“Did he tell you about the witch in the elevator who wanted his autograph?” her eyes took on a mischievous glint and he knew this must be a good one. He shook his head and she giggled again, “You’ll have to ask him. Though, maybe not in front of Christopher and Olivia.”

With a final smirk, she headed off to her young friends and Draco made a mental note to ask Harry about that very encounter the next time they met. He located his own pair on the opposite side of the room, at a table in between Hannah and her two mentees, and Dean and his three. He listened to Olivia talk excitedly about her recent Quidditch practice, and the upcoming game the following weekend. It would be the last one of the term, and had the potential to award Gryffindor a substantial lead towards the House Cup if they won. As he engaged both her and Christopher in conversation, he kept one eye on the Golden Boy, who was steadily making his way around the common area. He sat with each group for at least ten minutes, and was clearly letting the students ask whatever questions they came up with. A few times, he could tell his former nemesis was embarrassed or uncomfortable, especially when he repeatedly shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, or when he rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. While a tiny part of him definitely planned to poke fun at him for this later, the majority of what he felt was respect and admiration for the messy-haired Auror.

He mentally shook his head and huffed to himself as he considered that. Five years ago, Harry Potter had been the bane of his immature, arrogant existence, his arch rival, and the subject of his father’s never ending lectures and rants. Three years ago, they’d almost killed each other as he’d sought to complete a task that had turned his world into a living nightmare. Two years ago he’d started wondering if Potter hadn’t been on the right side all along, though it was far too late for him to do anything about it, and six months after that, the reluctant hero had walked into his prison cell and given him a second lease on life. Over the past year and a half, Harry Potter had become not only his court-appointed liaison, but his friend; one of the truest and most consistent friends he’d ever had. While Draco was definitely not proud of the path that had brought them to that intersection in Azkaban, he could admit without shame that he was incredibly thankful for the role the emerald-eyed wizard had played in helping him become the man he was today.

These thoughts were rolling through his mind as Harry approached their table, where Christopher and Olivia were now speechless (quite an accomplishment, really) with awe and didn’t take their eyes from him as he sank into the empty chair next to Draco.

“How’s it going?” the Bespectacled One grinned and Draco snorted as his Seconds continued to goggle.

“He’s just a regular bloke, you know,” he nudged Olivia’s elbow and she blinked owlishly at him and then at Harry. “Why don’t you tell him about your spot on the Gryffindor team?”

That seemed to shake her out of her daze and she smiled sheepishly as she introduced herself and explained that she was Angelina’s sister. Harry entertained them with several stories of his days on the house team with the older witch, and in mere minutes both Olivia and Christopher were chatting with him as if they’d known him for ages. Draco even joined in and shared the story of how he tricked Harry into thinking there were Dementors on the pitch in their Third Year, and was promptly scolded by both of his charges while Harry burst out laughing.

“My Patronus trampled you lot like you were leaves in the wind,” he wiped his eyes and struggled to catch his breath, “If I hadn’t been so intent on blasting the foul creatures away, I could have appreciated it more.”

“Yeah, well, we wound up in detention for weeks after that,” Draco smirked, “And I got at least three scathing letters from my father for pulling such a ridiculous stunt. Apparently, even followers of the Dark Lord don’t take those soul-sucking monsters lightly.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, “He threatened to break my broom and cut off my allowance for the rest of the term, but my mother convinced him the detentions were enough of a punishment. I never told them all we had to do was scrub out cauldrons and polish scales for Snape.”

“Are you kidding?” Harry fumed with mock indignation, “I could’ve fallen off my broom and been seriously injured or even killed, and all you had to do was _clean cauldrons_? Ron had to clean out bedpans in the hospital one time simply because he criticized Snape – without magic!”

At this, Draco let out a hearty guffaw, “Yes, well, sometimes it pays to be the teacher’s favorite, you know.”

Harry rolled his eyes, aware of Olivia and Christopher hanging on their every word, “I would rather have cleaned the bedpans than answer Lockhart’s fan mail, though, I tell you what.”

“You had to do what?” the tall blonde choked on another laugh, “When was that?”

“That was my punishment after Ron and I flew the car here at the start of Second Year, when we missed the train.”

Now, the occupants of the other nearby tables were listening with rapt attention and Harry figured he might as well just share the whole nonsensical story. He launched into the tale of how the barrier had been sealed, and that for some unknown reason, he and Ron had decided borrowing Arthur’s charmed car would be the best option. He’d become a rather good story-teller in recent years, with everyone and their great aunt wanting to know all about his incredible/amazing/fascinating (insert dramatic eye-roll here) life, and his young audience was no exception. They gasped and laughed in all the right places, and even Hannah and Dean were involved, the former never really having heard the whole thing, and the latter still finding it wildly amusing. Towards the end, a few questions were asked.

“How was the barrier closed?” Christopher was confused, “I didn’t think that could happen.”

Harry shot a side-long look at the pale wizard beside him and smirked, “Well, a certain House Elf by the name of Dobby did it to try to keep me from returning to school.” As he’d expected, Draco’s brows disappeared into his fringe and Harry snorted as he continued, “Dobby did a great many things that year in an effort to _save me_ , as he liked to insist.” He shook his head as a small smile tugged at his mouth, “He was one of the bravest, most selfless creatures I’ve ever known.” Not wanting to drag everyone down with melancholy memories, he regaled them with tales of stolen letters, destroyed desserts, rogue bludgers, and, from later years, mismatched socks, handfuls of gillyweed, Christmas baubles, and knitted hats. He could see his loyal friend clearly in his mind’s eye and, for the hundredth time at least, sent a silent _thank you_ to the heavens for all the Elf had given him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love when Draco and Hermione get caught being love-struck teenagers (because that's exactly what they are!). I spent two years living in a different state from my college boyfriend (who is now my husband) and I know how hard we tried to make every second count, and steal every kiss we could. I gave Harry a bit of the spotlight in this one, just because I adore him :) I hope everyone's week is off to a good start, and truly hope you all believe me when I say how much I appreciate your companionship on this fictional journey of mine <3


	35. Unsettling Updates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The housemates leave for their respective homes, and Draco meets with Harry to discuss some news.

The pizza party had been a massive success. Ten entire pies had been consumed, and a smattering of pieces were left over; enough to put together half of a large pizza for Bill and Fleur, with a sampling of different toppings, and two pieces for Theo to claim as his snack for later. His housemates watched with great amusement as he carefully wrapped his slices in multiple napkins and strode off to his room where he would, presumably, pack them in his bag.

The Second Years enjoyed every minute with their mentors, but the fact that _THE_ Harry Potter had made an appearance remained the highlight of the night. The raven-haired wizard had stuck around until the end, and was badgered into promising he’d come back some time and tell them all more harrowing tales of his years at the school. Draco knew his twelve-year-old self would have had an absolute fit over all the attention his former nemesis was receiving, and would have most likely been skulking in a corner, making snide remarks and sneering insults to Crabbe and Goyle in an attempt to hide his offended envy. Instead, he was right in the thick of it, laughing with all of them, and interjecting bits of trivia when possible, exchanging knowing smirks and snarky banter with his court-appointed-friend.

Once the herd of youngsters had made their exit, Harry approached Draco before taking his own leave.

“We’ll meet Thursday, yeah?” he asked while crunching on a bag of chips he’d swiped before Hermione cleaned off the snack table.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Draco drawled and rolled his eyes, earning a low chuckle from the reluctant hero, “Though you might have to spend a few minutes explaining exactly how Dobby knew what the Inquisitorial Squad was up to during our Fifth Year.” His tone was mockingly severe, but the waggle of his pale brows showed he was giving Harry a hard time, which the dark-haired wizard already knew as he snorted in response.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you all about my maniacal plans to dismantle Umbridge’s troupe of underage lackeys.”

Draco sniggered, “Any other important news to discuss?” He was mildly surprised when Harry didn’t immediately respond, and his brow furrowed as he considered his answer.

“There is a bit of an update,” he began, but rushed on to assure his friend, who had stiffened at his words, “Nothing to do with you or your sentencing or anything.”

Draco visibly relaxed and waved a hand, “It can wait, then.”

Harry nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, “Too right.” He glanced around the room and spotted Hermione coming towards them.

“You off then?” she asked as she hugged her best friend, who nodded at her query. “Thank you so much for sticking around and humoring their fascination with you.” She giggled as she pulled back, “I know how much you enjoy the spotlight.”

“Yes, well, I’ll take a room full of students over a crowd of reporters any day,” he smirked, “See you at Grimmauld in a bit.” With that he gave one final wave to the group at large and headed out the door.

Hermione turned to the tall blonde beside her and wrapped her arms around his waist. He, in turn, immediately locked his own around her and pulled her close, inhaling her apricot-vanilla scent and letting the sheer joy of holding her wash over him for a handful of seconds. She mumbled something into his shirt and he pulled back enough to hear her more clearly.

“I hate to, but I really do need to get going. The Headmistress only has her floo open until ten o’clock, which means I’ve got about twenty minutes.”

Draco glanced around and saw the other housemates scurrying around, grabbing their belongings and double-checking to make sure they hadn’t left anything lying about, starting to say their goodbyes to one another. He sighed dramatically and tightened his hold on the petite witch, scowling down at her.

“What if I simply refuse to let you go?”

“Well, you’d have to explain to Harry, who will worry extensively when I don’t return home. And you’ll have to owl Gethsemane and beg her not to fire me because I’ve been captured and held hostage, and can’t possibly get to the office. You’ll also have to make sure Kreacher knows to continue taking care of Roy in my absence. And I was supposed to have lunch,” but he stopped her teasing diatribe by capturing her lips in a soft but insistent kiss and revelled in the way she melted against him.

“Ahem,” a loud voice sounded from nearby, “We’re leaving now!”

They broke apart to find Theo standing there, a smug expression on his face, his arm around Luna who was beaming at them in her usual, ethereal way. Over the lanky brunette’s shoulder, they saw Hannah, Dean, and Padma making their way towards them as well and knew it really was time to go. Hugs were given all around, and farewells hollered as the alumni trickled out the door, promising to owl soon so that plans for their upcoming Christmas gathering could be made, and in a matter of seconds, Hermione and Draco were the only ones left in the vast and now-quiet space.

“Walk me to the floo?” she asked, her eyes wide and sparkling as she drank in his handsome features for what felt like the thousandth time, yet she never tired of it. He nodded and flashed her favorite, lopsided grin and waited on the spot for her to gather her things before they retraced the familiar path to the Head’s office. They walked at a slow, leisurely pace, knowing their friends would all be taking their own turns at the moment.

“So, what do you think about spending part of Christmas at the Manor?” Draco asked, draping his arm across her shoulders, her bag clutched in his other hand.

“Oh, that would be lovely,” Hermione beamed, “What does your mother have in mind?” She knew the elegant witch would already have several options laid out, at least in theory, and was honestly happy to go along with whatever worked best for all concerned.

“Well, she said whatever you preferred would be wonderful, but she did make a few comments about perhaps having Christmas Eve at Grimmauld, and Christmas Day at the Manor. She’s invited you and your parents to stay over, if you’d like,” he watched her face as she considered this course of action, her expression always so readable and animated. She was obviously pleased with his suggestion.

“That would be perfect,” she stopped walking and turned to face him fully, positively bouncing on her toes as she smiled with genuine happiness, “I would love to have you all at Harry's, and I can’t wait for my parents to see the Manor. I hope Narcissa doesn’t mind, but my mother will absolutely want a tour of the entire house.”

Draco chuckled, “That will be no problem at all.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, not daring to do anything more after their last episode in that very hallway. “I need to officially run these plans by Potter, so he can check with the Minister, since technically we’re not supposed to have guests, but I’m going to venture a guess that this will be approved.”

She slid her hand into his as they resumed their trek, “Just let me know what he says and we’ll go from there.” She paused, her face taking on a thoughtful countenance, “I’d really like to spend Christmas with you. I spent last year’s thinking about you the whole time, anyway.”

“Did you really?” he was mildly surprised and more than a little smug at her admission.

A rosy tinge colored her cheeks and she glanced away shyly, “I read your letter at least four times that weekend, in between whatever chaos was taking place at the Burrow. I wanted to write you back immediately, but didn’t have anything interesting to say, so…” she trailed off and shrugged and he squeezed her hand, causing her to peer up at him with a sheepish look.

“You could have written about the weather and I would have been thrilled,” he grinned, knowing he sounded like a complete sod and didn’t care in the slightest. “At some point I’ll have to tell you about the knots I tied myself in over how I started and ended my letters during that break,” he snorted at his own fumbling ineptitude. “If my mother ever starts talking about marmalade-covered-ham, please just ignore her.”

A delightful giggle erupted from his favorite witch and he was loathe to find them at the winding, stone staircase leading to the Head’s office. They stepped on and entered the magnificent space just as Neville was taking his leave after seeing Hannah off.

“See you next month, Hermione,” he smiled warmly, “Draco, I’ll see you at breakfast, and we’ve got patrols tomorrow night.” Draco let out a good-natured groan at the thought of both an early start, and a late night the next day, but he truly didn’t mind and was actually looking forward to his first lesson, which would be Defense with the Seventh Years, who were in the midst of some incredibly interesting debates regarding wards versus protective charms. He nodded to his fellow staff member as he and Hermione approached the hearth.

McGonagall was nowhere to be seen, and most of the portraits were dozing, or at the very least, settling in for the evening, so he took the opportunity to wrap his girlfriend in one last embrace, kiss her thoroughly, and whisper several things that caused her cheeks to redden once again. She cupped his jaw with her hand and gazed at him for a heartbeat or two.

“I love you,” she whispered, and even if she hadn’t said it out loud, he could see it in the depths of her whiskey-colored eyes. It made his heart skip and his breath catch in his throat to know that she meant it as ardently as he did.

“I love you,” he whispered back, squeezing her hand one last time before letting her go. He stayed till the grate was empty and the last of the green embers had faded away before leaving the quiet office and making his way back to his apartments on the third floor. Even though they’d just parted ways, there was a spring in his step as he considered the fact that they’d see each other again in four weeks, and then, with it being the holidays, he’d have multiple opportunities to spend time with her over the break. He had a few ideas about what he wanted to give her as a Christmas present, but he knew he needed to get moving on that in the next week or so. While the little silver frame he’d given her last year had been meaningful in its own way, it was nowhere near the kind of real gift he wanted to give her this time around. Yes, he’d definitely need to start working on that soon.

ooOoo

Thursday arrived, bringing Harry back to the Hogwarts grounds for his weekly meeting with Draco. They’d started meeting in Draco’s chambers, since Bill was on leave and neither of the younger wizards felt quite comfortable using his office when he wasn’t in and out of it as usual. Instead, Harry would floo in through McGonagall’s office and make his way down to the Flying Instructor’s apartments where they would typically spend several hours catching up, swapping amusing stories about work and news about friends. This time, however, Harry figured it would be best to start with the more serious topic he’d referenced over the weekend.

“So, I said there’d been an update,” he started without preamble as he settled into the squashy armchair in Draco’s sitting area.

“Yes,” a nod of platinum, “I’m assuming it has to do with the news from Azkaban you mentioned a few months ago?”

“It does,” Harry sighed, unsure of how to go about it and deciding the straightforward approach was probably best, “The most recent quarterly check was done last week and it seems there is a drastic decrease in the strength of your father’s magical core, as well as all the other inner circle members.” He let Draco absorb this bit of information before continuing, choosing his words carefully, “This draining of magical power is also affecting their physical health. All of them describe similar symptoms; shaking hands, aching joints, regular fatigue, and muscle pain. It’s like they’ve all come down with the flu.”

“The floo?” Draco was confused.

Harry chuckled wryly, “No, the flu. F.L.U. It’s a Muggle illness that makes you feel like you’ve been run over by the Knight Bus, and often consists of coughing, sneezing, and a fever, too. They don’t seem to have any of that, though.”

“Are they all at the same level of infirmity? Like they were last time?”

“On the whole, yes. The inmates I mentioned before are all experiencing similar issues, while Greyback remains in perfect health. The Carrows, however,” Harry grimaced, not really wanting to share this next bit but knowing he needed to, “They’re bad off. They moved both of them to the prison’s hospital ward immediately after the Ministry officials completed their scans.”

Silence fell between them as Draco mulled this over, unsure if he really wanted to ask the question bouncing around in his brain. Eventually, he did.

“What are their symptoms?”

“All of those same things, magnified tenfold, plus difficulty breathing and inability to walk without assistance. Neither of them have spoken in about two weeks, nor are they able to eat very much.” His green eyes were filled with compassion as they met the pewter grey ones across from him, “They’re dying.”

Not a muscle twitched or an eyelash fluttered as Draco received Harry’s statement. He’d expected that to be the case when the news of the deterioration of the others had been shared. If he was completely honest, he knew that would be the eventual course of things from the first conversation they’d had over two months ago. He was sure he’d need to unpack the whole thing at some point, but at the moment, he simply had a few questions.

“Has anyone come to any conclusions about why their progression has been so much quicker? Or why Greyback seems untouched by it?”

Harry shrugged and shook his head, “Honestly, no. Though they won’t admit that. The only thing they’ve said with certainty is that it is directly related to their connection with Voldemort, whether through the Dark Mark, or some other tether, it’s clearly related to their involvement as Death Eaters.”

Draco automatically looked down at his own left arm, the faded mark visible since he’d rolled up the sleeves of his oxford upon entering his chamber, “Then why haven’t I been afflicted in any way?”

“No clue,” Harry cocked his head and studied his former rival, “I wonder if it has to do with the fact that you’re no longer in prison? Maybe it’s triggered after prolonged captivity? Or being under magic-dampening wards? Azkaban is seriously spelled against the use of magic by inmates. Obviously they don’t have their wands, but they can’t use wandless magic either.”

“Quite possible,” Draco pondered this idea, “I might be completely off-base here, but the Carrows were massively inept. As far as magical ability went, they were barely better than squibs. That might have something to do with why they’ve deteriorated so much quicker than the others. And Greyback was never actually given a Dark Mark, regardless of how much his services were relied upon.” The disgust for the violent, blood-thirsty werewolf was evident in the sneer that flashed across his visage.

“You definitely might be onto something there,” Harry agreed. “I’ve also been wondering if it had something to do with being part of his original group of followers. You weren’t one of those. Voldemort might have used an additional spell when he branded them that he didn’t use with you.”

“The Carrows weren’t part of his original inner circle, though,” Draco replied, the gears in his brain whirring quickly, “They were part of the batch that joined up after Azkaban was broken into. There was another ceremony, like the first, where several dozen newly chosen servants were marked.” The obvious derision in his tone clearly expressed his thoughts on the whole thing as he continued, “I wasn’t part of any group ceremony. I was lucky enough to be gifted his sigil in private, with only my father there to witness it.”

His stomach lurched as he remembered the terrifying ordeal. He’d returned to school, bragging about how he’d been “chosen” by the Dark Lord, as if it had been some sort of great honor or distinction, but the reality couldn’t have been farther from his exaggerations. After the disaster at the Ministry and the loss of the prophesy, Voldemort’s wrath towards Lucius had been indescribably volatile. He’d _Crucio’d_ him multiple times over several days, confiscated his wand, refused to allow him to attend meetings with the other top-tier Death Eaters, and confined him to his rooms. After roughly a week of this sort of treatment, Lucius was abruptly granted permission to resume most of his previous duties, and had thought his punishment was over. As soon as Draco returned home from Hogwarts for the summer holidays, it was made clear that the final and most weighty blow of the hammer was yet to be delivered.

After existing in strained, uneasy silence for a few days, Draco had been summoned to the dining room where he found his father and mother seated at the long, mahogany table, Voldemort at his assumed place at the head. The snake-faced menace had beckoned Draco forward and indicated he should sit across from his parents, and once he’d done so, it was explained that he was being given the most prestigious distinction of joining the ranks of those highly revered servants of the Dark Lord. He’d almost thrown up right then and there. His pleading grey eyes sought his father’s which were firmly locked on the gleaming surface before him, though his mother met his gaze with tears brimming in her own. As Voldemort stood and motioned for him to follow, Narcissa begged her husband to do something, to stop this from happening, but to no avail. Her entreaty quickly turned to a whispered threat regarding what this would mean between them, and though his father’s jaw visibly clenched and he seemed to stop breathing for a second, he gave no indication that her ultimatum meant anything.

As Draco approached Voldemort, trying valiantly not to tremble, trying to remember to breathe, Narcissa had bolted up from her chair, knocking it over in the process and stormed from the room. The maniacal wizard laughed in a low, sinister tone and glanced once at Lucius, whose countenance had not changed, before grabbing hold of Draco’s left arm, ripping his sleeve open, and hissing the curse that sent fire coursing through his veins. He managed to stay standing for approximately thirty seconds before his knees buckled from the pain, and though Voldemort allowed him to drop to the floor, his iron grip on Draco’s arm never faltered. It felt like his blood was boiling, like his muscles were burning, and his bones being ground to dust. He wondered if his arm would just fall off and almost prayed that it would, for perhaps that would stop the mind-numbing agony. Tears were coursing down his cheeks and his lungs struggled to fight for breath as he gasped and heaved and endured the torture.

When it was over, Voldemort squatted in front of Draco, still holding onto his now red, throbbing, permanently marked arm, and peered into his still-streaming eyes.

“Welcome to my inner circle, young Malfoy,” he’d whispered, “I trust you will be a more reliable asset to me than your father has been of late.”

He’d let go finally, letting Draco’s arm drop painfully to his side, but remained uncomfortably close until the young man mustered the courage to meet those snake-like eyes with his own, red-rimmed ones. The Dark Lord studied him for a heartbeat or two, as if searching his soul for something. Eventually, he nodded once, stood, and swept out of the room, leaving the two Malfoy men in devastated silence. Draco had remained on his knees, cradling his arm to his chest, until his mother rushed back into the dining room and flew to his side. She helped him to his feet, not sparing a single glance at her husband, and brought him to his room, where Merry was instructed to look after him and try to heal him as best she could. Pain potions dulled the ache in his arm, but nothing could loosen the iron grip of terror now wrapped around his heart as he waited for whatever horrors would soon be thrust upon him.

And his father…. From that day on, his father barely spoke to him or looked at him, except to make sure he was where he was expected to be. Whatever common ground they’d shared before, whatever bond they’d had was severed the moment Lucius remained silent while that vile psychopath had branded him. It was clear a wall had been erected between his parents, as well, with his mother behaving as if his father wasn’t even visible anymore, focusing all her attention on Draco instead. The day the plan to kill Dumbledore had been announced, Narcissa had grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed it until he thought his fingers would break, and afterwards she had sat with him in his room while he paced and ranted, cried till he was sick, and eventually fell into an exhausted sleep. It was the beginning of the end, as far as he’d been concerned.

“You alright, mate?” a voice, seemingly from very far away, cut through the fog of his memories and Draco blinked.

Harry was sitting on the edge of his chair, elbows on his knees, staring intently at him with more than a little concern. He shook his head, clearing his mind.

“Yeah, sorry,” he heaved a deep sigh, “Just remembering that momentous occasion.” His drawl was meant as a sarcastic deflection, but Harry could still hear the anger and hurt behind it.

“It wasn’t right, what he did. You should have never been put in that impossible situation,” Harry spoke quietly but firmly.

“Yes, well, how often do evil tyrants do the right thing?” Draco asked wearily as he scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Too right,” Harry gave a wry snort.

Trying to marshal his thoughts and get himself back under control, Draco turned his attention to other aspects of the subject before them, “Does my mother know about this latest update?”

This time it was Harry who gave a troubled sigh, “Yes, I spoke with her at length about it on Tuesday. She seemed to take the news in stride, but I know it couldn’t have been easy to hear. She asked if she’ll be allowed to see him, if he continued to worsen.”

“And will she?”

“I asked Robards, and he said we’ll have to make a formal request to the Wizengamot. If it were solely up to Kingsley, I’m quite certain he would grant it immediately for your mother’s sake. But the full court is a different story.” He grimaced and shrugged, “High-security prisoners aren’t usually allowed visitors under any circumstances. There have been exceptions made, like Barty Crouch, but those are few and far between.”

“I know she’d understand if that was the ruling.”

“I’m sure, but I’d like to make this happen for her. I think it would give her some closure. I think it would give you some, as well,” Harry pinned him with another imploring and concerned stare.

Draco’s jaw clenched and he felt almost every muscle in his body tighten at the idea of returning to that stone fortress, as well as the thought of facing his father after all this time. He didn’t know if that was something he could handle, or if he even wanted the opportunity. Not knowing how to respond, he simply nodded jerkily and decided now was a good time for a change of topic.

“Speaking of getting permission for my mother,” he began, willing the ice that had formed in his veins to melt, “She would like to host the Grangers for Christmas, but we probably need to get permission for that since we’re not really supposed to have guests at the Manor.”

Harry’s solemn expression shifted to a wide grin as he replied, “Oh, she mentioned that to me last week. I’ve already asked Kingsley and he said it was fine. Said that anyone who had an issue with the Malfoys hosting Muggles in their home needed to sort out their priorities. That this was exactly the type of thing the war was fought for and that your mother was raising the standard for acceptance and inclusion in the magical world.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Draco groaned and huffed a laugh, “I hope he’s not planning to make a big deal out of it. The last thing we need is more publicity, even if it’s positive. You know there’d be a whole contingent who’d think we’re faking it all.”

Harry sniggered, “Don’t worry, Kingsley won’t say anything to anyone, mostly because he made the decision himself and wouldn’t want to argue with members of the Wizengamot who feel he’s taking liberties, but also because he truly does like and respect you and your mother and wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Good to know,” Draco smirked, though he was secretly very pleased and a bit humbled by this revelation. For the rest of their time together, the two former rivals discussed upcoming plans for the holidays, and gift ideas for the special witches in their lives. By the end of Harry’s visit, all thoughts of Lucius and the other Death Eaters had been relegated to the farthest reaches of his mind, where he planned to let them stay for as long as he possibly could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This one was a bit longer than most, but there was a lot for Draco to process in his conversation with Harry. I realized I hadn't ever described my version of him taking the Mark, and figured this was an important place to do that. Christmas is fast approaching for my favorite characters, and with it, a few surprises (delighted squealing)!! Hope this finds each of you well, safe, and healthy, and that your week has been decent so far! If you haven't come across it, I posted THE SHORTEST piece I've ever spit out - entitled "Denied" - would love for you to check it out :)


	36. An Abundance of Owls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione hears from several of her friends, and Harry has some exciting news.

_Hey Hermione,_

_Do you think we could do some sort of Secret Santa again this year? Maybe send out names to everyone? Or some other sort of gift exchange?_

_Let me know what you think,_

_Dean_

**_Hermione!_ ** ****

**_I need help! I have no idea what to get Oliver for Christmas. I don’t want to do something cliché like Quidditch gear or anything related to the sport – he has more than enough of all that already. We’ve recently gotten into watching movies together (I had Dean show me how to hook up a telly and a dvd player in my flat) and I was thinking maybe something to do with that? He also really likes games, especially chess, but I was thinking maybe there’s a Muggle game I could get him? I truly have no clue. What do you think?_ **

**_Are we going to do any sort of gift swap this year? I’ll need to come up with something for that, too, if we are._ ** ****

**_Can’t wait to see you in just a few weeks!_ **

**_Love,_ **

**_Daphne_ **

****

_Hello, my brilliant friend!_

_Just a quick note to let you know I got the Dungeons and Dragons game you helped me order for Theo – thank you so much! He is going to be so excited, and Daddy will be thrilled to actually play it since he’s heard so very much about it. Speaking of, Daddy has decided to hand the Quibbler off to us while he fulfills his lifelong dream of visiting the sacred breeding grounds of the Antipodean Opaleye in New Zealand. He’s been wanting to travel for a very long time, and finally feels like he can do so, now that Theo is here to keep me company and help manage everything. I think I’m going to get him a camera like Hannah’s so he can take all sorts of pictures. I’ll have to ask her where her parents got hers._

_Are we doing presents with our housemates this year? I think it would be fun to do something, even though we can’t do the week-long clues like last year. Let me know what you think._

_Miss you bunches,_

_Xoxo,_

_Luna_

**_Hermione,_ ** ****

**_I hope you don’t mind my writing to you, but I ran into Harry and Ron last weekend and they both suggested you’d be my best shot at help, so here goes._ ** ****

**_As you know, Daphne and I have been seeing each other for a few months now. She talks about you all the time. I want to get her something special for Christmas, but I have no idea what that should be. I know a few of her interests, but I want to get something that she’d really like; something that tells her how much I care about her. Do you have any suggestions?_ **

**_Thanks in advance,_ **

**_Oliver Wood_ **

_Hello love,_

_It’s been awhile since I wrote one of my “one year ago” letters, and figured this would be a good time to do so. With all the talk of the upcoming Christmas hols, and my students going on endlessly about presents and whatnot, it's got me thinking about how different last year's season was for me. Did you know that at the end of this week, it will have been one year since we all chose our Secret Santa names? Obviously, I'd never heard of that before, but I was still a nervous wreck when I got my envelope. I wanted so badly for it to be you, and yet I was terrified of that possibility because I had no idea what I’d do if it was. I was both extremely disappointed and a little relieved when I read Neville’s name on my piece of paper. His wasn’t hard to come up with, but I’ll admit I was selfishly hoping that the clues and items I put together for him would impress you just a bit, and that you’d be pleased when it was revealed that I was his Santa. (Were you? I won't let it go to my head... much.)_

_That was also the same night we watched our first movie together, and while I really did enjoy “Home Alone”, I spent most of it marveling over the fact that you were sitting next to me. You’d squished yourself into the spot beside me, and gave me a box of M &M’s, and it might as well have been a cauldron full of gold for how much the gesture meant to me. At that point, I have to be honest and say I was mildly worried you and Theo were on the brink of something. The two of you teased each other and joked around all the time, and I found myself getting jealous over the simplest interactions. Having you choose to sit there that night gave me a bit of a boost, and I couldn’t help but notice every time you leaned closer, every inch of your arm or leg that touched mine, every time you laughed. I would have stayed in that very spot for days if it meant you’d be there, too._

_Another embarrassing detail of that night involves how obnoxiously smug I was when the stockings were hung up and mine was next to yours. Ridiculous, I know (stop laughing at me). I might as well go with full disclosure and say that the night of the actual reveal, when you hugged Theo after he gave you the book, I just about threw something. He noticed it, too, and came to my room later to give me a bit of a kick in the arse to get me to act on my feelings. Granted, the fact that you’d also hugged me by then helped quite a bit, too. But I’m getting ahead of myself._

_Back to the movie; because you’d seemed so comfortable around me by then, I started making excuses to be near you, to walk beside you, to reach for something at the same time so that just maybe our hands would touch. I feel like an absolute tosser when I look back at all the interactions I orchestrated; how obvious was I? Did you know I spelled my bag to rip that day on the way out of DADA so that my books would fall all over the corridor? I knew you were just a few steps behind me, and that you’d stop to help. Those two seconds when I held your hand after you picked up my inkpot felt like an eternity. You teased me for being clumsy, but it was worth it to be just inches from you, your full attention pinned on me._

_Did you also know that I still have one of your scrumblies? Or scratchies? Those things you use to put your hair in a bun. You had left one on the coffee table one night after studying and it fell on the floor when you piled up all your books and notes. I saw it after you’d gone to your room and meant to give it back to you, but it smelled just like you; all apricots and vanilla, and I couldn’t give it up. I put a stasis charm on it so it wouldn’t fade and kept it in my nightstand drawer for the rest of the year (I promise, I’m not a lecher). At the end of the year, when we were packing to go home, I decided to keep it since we’d be apart for months on end. If you want it back now, I suppose I can part with it… though I might need something else that smells like you to replace it._

_In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a hopeless sap when it comes to you. I’ve kept every note you’ve written (before we had our journals), every gift you’ve given me, every photograph you’re in, and I even kept the big red bow that was around my Secret Santa cauldron, and the ribbons from my birthday present. Every single one of them is dear to me, but none even come close to how precious you are, my sweet Hermione._

_I will never know what caused you to turn your affections towards me, what made you look beneath the surface and see something worth your time, but I will forever be grateful for it. It’s still unbelievable sometimes, that you’re mine. I wonder if I’ll wake up at some point to find it’s all been a dream; that the past year was some sort of cosmic trick or severe hallucination. You are my everything and I love you with my whole heart._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

_P.S. We are all set for Christmas at the Manor – Mother is beside herself with joy. You’ll have to owl her and plan it all out. Speaking of Christmas, are we doing Secret Santas or anything this year with the others?_

Hermione wiped the tears that had trickled down her face as she read the last part of Draco’s letter. He had a way of turning her into a complete mess with his words and she didn’t know how to tell him how much she valued and appreciated the truths he entrusted to her, nor how overwhelmed her heart was by his declarations. He truly was one of a kind, and she was so very, very glad he was hers.

She sighed and gave a rueful chuckle as she looked at the handful of letters strewn across her bed. When she’d arrived home from work, Kreacher had presented her with a small silver tray containing the ones from Dean, Luna, Daphne, and Oliver, and as she’d opened the door of her bedroom, Cyrene came swooping to the window sill, tapping to be let in. It seemed quite clear that her housemates all wished to participate in some sort of present swap, so she would sort that out immediately, since they had barely two weeks before they’d be back together again, and everyone would need time to get their gifts.

She was extremely excited about Christmas with her parents and Draco’s family, though she was going to give herself a little bit more time to figure out exactly how she wanted to phrase her ideas to Narcissa. She knew the lovely witch would grant her whatever she asked, but she didn’t want to overstep any sort of proprietary boundaries. Harry had told her Kingsley’s thoughts on the whole thing and she’d laughed in agreement. If any of the stodgy old buffers in the Wizengamot had a problem with one of the oldest, and previously most blood-prejudiced families entertaining Muggles in their home, they’d definitely lost the plot. Plus, it wasn’t as if they were throwing an extravagant party or anything, it was simply Christmas dinner with family.

Hermione let her thoughts wander down that road for a moment. _Family._ Unless she was much mistaken, there was more than a little certainty in her mind that one day she truly would be part of the Malfoy family. She would be Narcissa Malfoy’s daughter-in-law. The idea seemed both preposterous and wonderful, considering their history, though she held no grudges against the older witch and was quite sure the respect and admiration she felt was equally reciprocated. But to be part of such an aristocratic heritage… it was a mildly daunting thought. Her own family, though perfectly comfortable financially, had never had the kind of wealth or societal standing the Malfoy’s did, nor did they find such things important. Bringing their families together for the holidays would be interesting, to say the least. Though they had met briefly after the graduation ceremony last spring, they didn’t spend an extended amount of time together, so this would be the first opportunity for them to truly interact.

She smiled to herself as she pondered a few ideas; ways to get past the awkward first moments a new acquaintance often brings, and things that would allow each family to share a bit of themselves with the other. Tucking those in the back corner of her brain, she turned to the more pressing matters at hand.

_Hello everyone!_

_I apologize for the copied message, but it was the quickest and easiest way to get this to you. Many of you have asked about some sort of gift swap for our Christmas party, and I think that’s a wonderful idea. Instead of Secret Santa, how about a White Elephant? For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, it’s a bit of a game where everyone brings a funny gift (nothing more than 20 sickles ). Try to find something bizarre, cheeky, or simply useless. Wrap it so it’s not at all discernable, and when we’re all together, I’ll explain the rest._

_Let me know if you have any questions! Can’t wait to see you all soon!_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

At the end of Daphne’s letter, she added a quick post-script:

_I know Oliver has become quite a Country Music fan – have you thought about maybe getting him some albums? Or a cowboy hat (haha!). Checkers is a good Muggle game to start with – it’s similar to chess – or he might like a card game like Crazy Eights or Uno. He used to play Exploding Snap all the time in the common room._

_Xoxo_

While that was a fairly easy solution, she needed to think a little further on what to tell Oliver in return. Obviously he knew Daphne loved designing and fashion, but that wasn’t exactly an easy interest to get a gift for. Her creative friend also loved art, music, and was more than a little bit of a romantic. Perhaps Oliver could take her to a museum, or a concert. It was something to consider, at any rate.

She addressed, folded, and sealed all the small missives and decided to ask Harry if she could borrow his owl for the ones farthest away, since Cyrene had just returned from Hogwarts. She’d send her feathered friend out first thing in the morning to deliver the more local ones. In the meantime, she jotted a quick note to Draco in the journal.

_I love you, Draco._

_I know I say it all the time, but I hope you truly know how very much I do. I got your letter just a little while ago, and once again you have overwhelmed me with your thoughts. I promise I’ll share my own “one year ago” memories soon, but I wanted you to know how much your words mean to me. How much **you** mean to me. _

_You are my heart, my world, my future, my everything._

_Xoxo_

_P.S. It’s a scrunchie, and you can keep it as long as you want!_

Her vision was blurry again by the time she finished the short message and wondered at exactly what point over the last year had she become such an emotional wreck over one particular wizard. It was a problem, per se, but she’d never been prone to tears or jittery nerves or butterflies in her stomach like this before, had never felt her heart squeeze or swell the way it did when he told her how he felt about her. She felt like she was handling the distance between them rather well, but she’d be lying if she said there weren’t days when she wanted nothing more than to kidnap him and hide away somewhere, just the two of them, for days on end without interruptions or pressing responsibilities. Someday they’d have that.

Having completed all her responses for the moment, she bounded down the stairs to the kitchen where Harry was sitting at the table, reading the evening _Prophet_ and talking to Kreacher, who was bustling about with supper.

“Hey, everything alright?” green eyes studied her with curious intensity.

“Yes, everything is fine. Why?”

“Well, your eyes are glassy, your nose is red, and you’ve got a smear of ink on your cheek,” Harry pointed out with a soft smile.

“Oh, for Godric’s sake,” she rubbed her cheek with her hand, but it obviously wasn’t doing any good if Harry’s quiet laugh was any indication.

“If Miss will allow me,” Kreacher’s croaky voice came from behind her and she turned to find him with one hand raised towards her. She nodded and he snapped his fingers and she felt the barest hint of tingling on her cheek and knew he’d removed the smudge.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” she said gratefully as she sank into the chair catty-cornered from Harry, “As I was saying, everything is fine. I just got caught up reading letters.”

Harry grinned, “Ah, yes, Malfoy’s quite the poet, I’m sure. Has he quoted Shakespeare to you yet?”

She rolled her eyes, “Shut it, you. He’s very sweet to me, as you well know, and don’t even try to tell me that your letters to Ginny are all accounts of your days at work, or updates on the weather.” She poked him in the side and he jumped away, “I’m sure you send her romantic thoughts and flowery compliments, too.”

His cheeks flushed and he refused to meet her gaze, which was more than telling enough for her. She smirked as he cleared his throat, and Kreacher chose that moment to place a bubbling casserole on the table between them that smelled absolutely divine. All teasing was forgotten for the next few minutes as they scooped helpings into their bowls and settled in to enjoy the talented Elf’s handiwork. After a bit, Harry shot a sidelong look at his best friend before clearing his throat again and speaking.

“I’ve, uh, decided what I’m getting Ginny for Christmas.”

“Really? What?” Hermione continued to eat, unaware of the nervous fidgeting going on across from her.

“Um… it’s a… it’s a ring,” Harry was twisting his napkin as if trying to strangle it.

Chocolate eyes flashed to emerald and silence reigned for several heartbeats.

“A ring?” she asked, arching a brow.

“Yes,” he nodded firmly, “a ring.”

“What kind of ring?”

A grin spread across the Chosen One’s face that could have rivaled the sun and immediately Hermione was out of her seat, squealing and hugging him, almost knocking him over in her excitement.

“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful!”

He hugged her back tightly, and when they broke apart and plunked back down in their chairs, they were both breathless and beaming.

“When? What made you decide? Do you know how?” she had too many questions to form all the words properly, but he understood what she was asking.

“I’d been thinking about it since she graduated, honestly, and even more so since she left with the Harpies. Then, Malfoy asked me a few weeks ago about when I thought I’d propose, and I haven’t been able to shake the idea since. I don’t think we’ll have the wedding anytime soon, but I still just really wanted to take this next step, if that makes any sense,” he shrugged and gave her a sheepish look.

“It does,” she agreed and gestured for him to go on.

“I had several conversations with Sirius, actually, about whether or not there might be a ring or other piece of jewelry from my family that I could use in some way, and he encouraged me to check his vault and mine.” Even though Sirius had left everything of his to Harry, the younger wizard still couldn’t bring himself to refer to all of it as _his_. But, he’d taken his late godfather’s advice and visited both vaults at Gringotts to see what might be available. Sirius’ vault had contained a wide variety of trinkets and baubles, clearly handed down for generations through the Black family, but they were all larger items, such as brooches, pendants, ostentatious necklaces and earrings, and even a couple of tiaras. While he could have chosen a piece and had the stones removed and set in a ring, he’d decided to check his family’s vault before making that decision.

Most of what was stored in the Potter’s vault really was just currency. Neither James nor Lily came from the upper echelon of society, and nothing even remotely close to the priceless heirlooms in Sirius’ cache had ever been passed on to either them. There were, however, several treasures Harry uncovered in his thorough search, having never before really bothered to look for anything beyond whatever money he needed to cover expenses.

In the far corner of the small space were a few items that caused a myriad of emotions to crash over the young man in a forceful wave. A pocket watch, engraved on the back, that had been given to a distant relative, perhaps his grandfather or even great-grandfather upon his coming of age; a pair of ruby and gold cufflinks, housed in a tiny but handsome wooden box, a note tucked underneath them indicating they had been a gift from Lily to James at some point; a silver place setting clearly designed for a child, his own name and birthdate etched on the front of the miniature, handled cup; and the biggest prize of all, a black velvet box containing his parents’ wedding bands and Lily’s engagement ring. It was a simple, yet elegant setting – a solitary half-carat diamond flanked by two much smaller ones on a band of yellow gold. As soon as he saw it, Harry knew it would be perfect, though he wanted to make one small adjustment.

Seeing Hermione’s joy over his announcement, he didn’t think twice as he rushed from the room, hollering for her to wait right there, and took the stairs two at a time until he reached his room. She heard him come thundering back down and waited eagerly for him to reappear, which he did, seeming only slightly winded as he set a new velvet box on the table between them. Her eyes grew round as saucers.

“Is this it?” she breathed, afraid to touch it or open it.

“Yeah,” Harry did it for her, tilting the lid back to reveal his mother’s beautiful ring, now containing tiny rubies on either side of the smaller diamonds. It glinted impressively in the kitchen’s warm light and left her speechless for several seconds.

“Oh, Harry. It’s perfect,” she finally whispered, her eyes filled with happy tears for her best friend and the promise the ring signified. She couldn’t be more thrilled for him and Ginny and knew if anyone deserved this happily ever after, it was the wizard that had become like a brother to her over the years.

“She’ll like it, yeah?” he asked, a nervous smile quirking his lips.

“Absolutely!” she reassured him at once.

“I’ve not decided exactly how I want to go about it,” he admitted, closing the box and staring at it with a furrowed brow. “I’m not too keen on doing it in front of the whole family, or anywhere too public. I’d like to avoid an audience, especially reporters, you know.”

She nodded vigorously in complete understanding, “Is there somewhere that means something particularly special to you both? Somewhere representative of your relationship?”

He thought about that for a second or two before his eyes glinted with the beginnings of an idea and a slow grin spread across his youthful face, “There might just be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, y'all! I hope everyone was able to enjoy the weekend and that this week is off to a good start. For my family, this is the last week before school starts (both for my high-schooler, and my college freshman) and we're still waiting to see if it's actually all going to happen the way we've been told. Things change by the minute around here (insert annoyed sigh from someone who REALLY likes having a set plan in place). Anyway, I am super excited for Harry and what this next step will mean for him and Ginny <3   
> In other news, a friend said something yesterday about her birthday being on April 1st, and I immediately responded with "Just like Fred and George!" and was met with a blank stare. Letting my inner nerd shine through as always. Lol. Thank you all so much for reading!


	37. Problem Solving Skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's help is requested on several occasions for a variety of issues.

Draco’s class of Third Years had just exited the room and he was bending over his desk, checking off the names of each student who had turned in their assignment when he heard a quiet shuffling sound off to the side. He glanced up to find one of the Ravenclaws he’d just been instructing standing a few feet away, staring at the stone floor as if it might open up and swallow him whole.

“Lucas, can I help you with something?” he asked kindly, knowing the young wizard was on the quieter side compared to most, though incredibly bright and intuitive.

The boy’s shoulders slumped and he released a ragged sounding breath, eyes still firmly on the ground, “Coach Malfoy, I… I made a mistake.”

“How so?” he kept his voice calm and even, wondering what on Earth the reserved lad could have possibly gotten into.

“I… um… I lied about something, and now… now other people have found out and…” his words trailed off and he finally lifted his head and met Draco’s gaze. He looked utterly miserable, a sheen to his eyes and the merest trembling of his chin clueing his teacher in to just how awful he was feeling about his current predicament.

Draco put down his quill and walked around his desk to two seats in the front row and gestured for the dark-haired boy to sit across from him at a shared table.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked and was rewarded with a nod, even as the boy’s cheeks flushed and he fixed his eyes on his hands which were clenched tightly together.

“We were out in the courtyard a few days ago, me and Dorian and Najib, just taking a break between lessons, and Rowan comes out with his cronies and starts bragging about how he’s going to win the House Cup for us this year,” Lucas rolled his eyes and Draco chuckled, knowing exactly who the older student was that the boy was referring to and not the least bit surprised by the scene being described. He nodded, encouraging the other wizard to continue.

“He just kept going on and on, bragging about the goals he scored during the last match, and then about the… the _celebration_ he and Maleia had afterwards and it was just so obnoxious,” Lucas scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck, his face turning a deeper shade of red as he went on. “Dorian said something about doubting if Rowan could keep a witch… interested… for more than a minute or two and Rowan heard him and came stomping over, looking like he was gonna hex him or something.”

Draco’s expression turned serious. Students knew there was no magic allowed in the corridors or other populated areas between classes and hoped the hot-headed Sixth Year hadn’t done something rash.

“He got right in Dor’s face, asking him to repeat what he’d just said, but Najib stepped in and did it for him, ‘cause Najib’s mental, and it turned into a row between the two of them and I just wanted to break it up before we got in trouble or someone got hurt, so I… I said something I shouldn’t have.” Though Lucas had held Draco’s gaze for most of his tale, he cringed as he said the last part and dropped his eyes back to his hands.

“Go on,” the tall blonde prodded.

Heaving a great sigh, Lucas forced the last bit of his confession out with a rush, “I-said-I’d-shagged-Colette-in-the-Restricted-Section-for-a-half-hour.”

Shock was the first thing Draco registered once he’d deciphered the jumbled mess of word vomit that had just been spewed at him, and then it took Herculean strength not to bust out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. He passed a hand over his face to give himself a moment to compose his features and counted to ten before attempting to speak, lest he be unable to keep his amusement hidden.

“I’m going to guess you did no such thing?”

Wide, mortified eyes flashed up at him and Lucas shook his head vehemently, “No, sir, I did not. I’ve never… I mean… I kissed Elise once, at the very end of term last year, but that’s it.”

Draco allowed himself to huff a low laugh, “I’m guessing your announcement stopped the argument?”

“Yeah. Rowan turned on me and said he didn’t believe it, and I just shrugged and then Professor Humboldt came by and made us all go to class. I thought that was the end of it, but Rowan told some of the other Sixth Years, and it spread through our house, and got back to Colette.” Now his look was pleading as he rambled on, “She’s so mad at me, won’t even look at me, said I’m some sort of lecher for saying that, and told all her friends she’d turn me into a dung beetle if I ever came near her.”

“And it matters that she’s angry because…” a pale brow cocked in expectation.

“Because I’ve fancied her since September and now I’ve ruined any chance I ever had,” Lucas wailed at his teacher before glowering at the floor again and muttering, “Not that I ever had one.”

Draco mulled it all over for a few seconds, considering it from a variety of angles and perspectives before addressing his clearly-distraught student.

“Well, first thing’s first,” he tapped the surface of the shared table between them, “You need to set the record straight, whether you do that by approaching individual housemates, or making a general announcement, or posting a notice on the board, it’s up to you, but you need to come clean about the rumor.” Lucas nodded reluctantly and Draco forged ahead, “You also need to apologize to Colette. Since she’s not currently willing to go anywhere near you, writing a letter might be your best option, though you should still repeat your request for forgiveness in person the first chance you get.”

The younger wizard continued to look forlornly towards his shoes, but he nodded again, clearly having heard and understood what needed to happen. After a few beats of silence, he squared his shoulders and looked Draco straight in the eye.

“Thanks, Coach Malfoy. I’ll do it. Just like you said,” his young face was so serious, Draco had to hold back another snigger, instead simply nodding in mutual severity and holding out his hand. Lucas shook it in a businesslike manner before grabbing his bag and marching towards the door.

“Let me know how it goes,” Draco called after him and received one more terse nod before the Ravenclaw slipped out, allowing his professor to finally let out the hearty chuckle he’d been holding back. He couldn’t help but recall some of his own antics just a few years prior and had to admit to his own fair share of exaggerated stories, though he’d never been quite bold (or dumb?) enough to boast about something of that nature. He admired Lucas’ willingness to seek help, though, which spoke volumes to the boy’s character, and hoped his attempt at reparations went alright. He wished he’d learned a bit more about admitting his own faults and asking for forgiveness when he was younger; he didn’t know if he’d have had the guts to do it if he’d been in Lucas’ shoes.

He returned to his checklist which he completed in no time, and then set about preparing for his Fourth Year Hufflepuffs, who he’d have after his flying class, which was immediately after lunch. He made his way swiftly to the Great Hall, planning to grab a sandwich and maybe an apple before setting up his indoor instructional space. With winter officially upon them, he’d asked the Headmistress for permission to use the “forest room” (as the students had taken to calling Firenze’s old teaching spot) for his lessons. She’d agreed with surprisingly little resistance, complimenting his creative way of approaching things as well as the fact that he was clearly keeping the best interest of his students in mind. He didn’t bother telling her he had no desire to freeze his backside off down at the pitch if he didn’t have to.

Striding towards the large oaken doors, he heard someone calling for him and turned around to find Frederick, a Fifth Year Slytherin whom he’d spoken to on various occasions outside of lessons, even as far back as the previous spring, walking towards him at a brisk pace. Draco took a few steps in the younger wizard’s direction and cocked his head in question.

“Hello, Frederick. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, sir, I’m pretty sure I forgot to include my consideration of Merrythought’s chapter about general counter-spells in place of more specific deflections or even defensive casting,” the lad’s hazel eyes wide, his breath coming in worried pants, “Is there any way I could go check? I know we turned them in yesterday, but,” Draco held up a hand, stopping the verbal onslaught and huffing a laugh.

“I actually already graded those essays last night,” he explained and Frederick’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “But you’ll be pleased to know you _did_ include your thoughts about that, and received top marks for your interesting take on the subject.”

Frederick’s eyes widened for a moment before a beaming smile spread across his face, “Really?”

Draco nodded, grinning at the young man.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate you telling me. Guess I worried for nothing,” his expression turned sheepish.

“That’s usually the case, I’ve found,” the tall blonde smirked, “Did you need anything else?”

“No, just heading to lunch.”

“As am I,” Draco turned on his heel and the two made their way into the large and noisy hall, where most of the students were already gathered for the midday meal. Frederick made a beeline for his friends, though not before thanking his professor one last time, and the older wizard traced the familiar path to the square staff table he shared with Neville, Penelope, and the other younger, newer faculty members. Still wanting to get to his next location as quickly as possible, he didn’t engage in much conversation with his tablemates, except to extend a friendly greeting, though he was thoroughly amused by the mild debate taking place between Marcus Belby and Aleksei Humboldt regarding the use of runic symbols in Astronomy.

“There’s very little evidence to support your claim,” Marcus was saying as he dug into a sizeable helping of cabbage and beef.

A low, rumbling laugh sounded from the usually-quiet Russian wizard, “Well, zhen you should come to my class when you take a break from your stargazing, yah? I vill show you.”

Everyone chuckled, even Marcus, and talk shifted to the upcoming holidays as Draco continued to inhale his chicken and ham sandwich.

“You off to the races?” Neville teased, greatly amused by the well-mannered Pureblood’s bulging cheeks and rapid chewing. Draco simply nodded, gulped down a massive swig of pumpkin juice, grabbed an apple, an orange, and three chocolate biscuits from the table before hopping up, bidding them all good afternoon, and taking off for his next destination at a near jog.

Upon reaching the unique classroom, he set about placing the broomsticks in a specific pattern on the grassy floor, intending for the students to work on some formations. Though the room truly did resemble a forest glen, he wasn’t about to let them go zooming around aimlessly. He wasn’t entirely sure what might happen if one of them were to go too high, or crash into whatever boundary might exist where a wall would typically be. He’d brought along his Quidditch figures, too, and planned to give a demonstration with the small players before letting his charges mount their own brooms.

Wrapped up in his preparations, Draco didn’t initially hear anyone approaching until he caught a glimpse of movement in his periphery and whipped around to find Hollace, a Second Year Ravenclaw who was part of Padma’s mentoring group, and (if he wasn’t much mistaken) Malcolm’s almost-girlfriend at the moment. Surprised to find her there, he gaped at her for a second before schooling his features and asking, for the third time that day,  
  
“Hello, Hollace, can I help you with something?”

The pretty, auburn-haired witch twisted her fingers together and chewed her lip, clearly unsure how to go about broaching whatever subject was on her mind. Having no idea what she might possibly want, Draco simply waited patiently until she composed her thoughts.

“Yes, um, Coach Malfoy, I need your help,” she finally managed, “I need some suggestions.” She paused again, looking imploringly at him, but he was still at a loss.

“Suggestions about…” he arched a brow in question.

“Oh, yes, um,” she was positively wringing her hands now, her cheeks having taken on matching bright splotches of pink. She squeezed her eyes shut and blurted, “I don’t know what to get Malcolm for Christmas.”

Draco blinked owlishly at the young girl, wondering why on Earth she thought he’d be able to help her with this, but not wanting to be quite so blunt about it.

“Okay,” he drawled slowly, his brain rapidly itemizing everything he knew about Hermione’s mentee, “I’m not sure about all of Malcolm’s interests, but I know he’s very fond of Quidditch, wizard’s chess, that Muggle game Skip-Bo, and he’s recently started reading _The Hobbit_.” He chuckled as he remembered the sheer delight on Theo’s face when the young Gryffindor had mentioned that fact the last time they’d all been together, and how the lanky brunette had slung his arm around the sandy-haired boy and immediately launched into an enthusiastic monologue about one of his favorite books. As he’d rattled of the short list, however, Hollace’s face brightened till she was positively beaming.

Bouncing on her toes, she grabbed his arm, “Thank you, Coach Malfoy! That’s perfect!” Without further ado, she spun around and skipped towards to door.

He wasn’t at all sure what was perfect about what he’d said, but called after her, “He’s also very fond of chocolate frogs and licorice wands!” Hollace paused at the threshold, flashed him a grin over her shoulder and waved before disappearing into the hall.

Shaking his head and heaving an amused sigh, he returned to the task at hand.

ooOoo

The flying lesson with his young Hufflepuffs went well, very well if he was being completely honest. Even Erik, who had been struggling for weeks on end with the simplest concepts, was confidently summoning, mounting, hovering, and landing. He’d even managed a short ride from one end of the pitch to the other during their last outdoor lesson of the term. Today, he’d been one of the first to successfully keep the correct distance as they’d practiced the formations Draco had shown them. Progress was indeed being made.

The pale wizard hummed to himself as he double-checked to make sure everything had been put away in the “forest room” before exiting and setting off for his next Defense class. The corridor was crowded with students traveling from one subject to the next and as he weaved his way in between them, he nodded, smiled, waved, and replied to greetings as he went. Though he wasn’t a huge fan of crowds or the volume brought about by excited chatter, especially when it was only increased by the high ceilings and stone walls, he couldn’t help the pleased feeling that flooded through him as he considered the reactions he garnered from those he encountered nowadays.

As a student attending school in the ancient castle, he’d spent the first five years solidly living up to his aristocratic, entitled, supremacist reputation. Anyone who heard the name _Malfoy_ knew exactly what it stood for and the weight it carried, and he’d had no problem flaunting that like a shiny badge of honor. At the time, he’d honestly thought himself better than the rest, and didn’t care how others perceived him or whether he was liked or admired outside of his own small circle of acquaintances. Looking back, however, he vividly remembered the sneers and expressions of dislike that were often cast his way, as well as the innumerable instances of heads ducking or eyes furtively glancing away, lest his attention be turned on a new target for his mockery and insults.

Fifth Year, an undeniable line had been drawn in the sand when Umbridge showed up with her ghastly pink wardrobe and annoyingly saccharin voice. His father had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to win the new faculty member’s favor and do whatever her toad-shaped heart required. He couldn’t stand the woman, but he did enjoy the power she bestowed on her Inquisitorial Squad, if for no other reason than it gave him an actual, valid excuse to stick his nose in Potter’s business and make his life as miserable as possible. _Salazar’s skirts, he’d been an obnoxious wanker._

Draco snorted to himself as he neared his classroom door, thankful for the few minutes of peace before his new batch of students was to arrive. That gratitude was short-lived. Before he’d even reached his desk at the front of the room, hurried footsteps sounded on the stone floor, approaching in his direction. He turned around as he set his bag on the chair and was met with the bright red face of Marcus Belby, whose expression seemed to be a combination of nervous anticipation and complete embarrassment.

“Everything alright, Belby?” Draco asked with polite curiosity. Though they’d attended school together, Marcus was a year older and a Ravenclaw, so their paths rarely crossed. Over the past few months, he’d gotten to know the professor-in-training and found him to be quick-witted, intelligent, and amicable, if a little reserved. Most of their conversations revolved around their subject areas, the students they taught, and the latest scores from their favorite Quidditch teams. He’d been under the impression that Marcus and Neville were on slightly friendlier terms, and so he was surprised to have the stocky wizard seek him out.

Marcus’ blue eyes darted around the room, obviously reluctant to meet Draco’s gaze as he stammered out his reason.

“Can you tell me how to say something in French?” he finally managed to blurt out.

“What?” Draco was completely bemused.

“You can speak French, right?” Marcus finally looked him square in the face, his face now showing signs of outright desperation.

“Yes, a bit,” the tall blonde admitted.

“Could you… could you help me translate this,” Marcus dug into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. With slightly trembling hands, he opened it, laid it on the desk and smoothed it out so Draco could read the words scrawled across it.

_“There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.”_

After reading it through twice and still not being able to make much sense of it, Draco looked back up at Marcus, a brow cocked in question.

“It’s a quote,” Marcus waved his hand impatiently over the paper, “From the Jane Austen novel, _Persuasion_. It’s her favorite.”

“Whose favorite?”

“Oh, um, Emilie,” Marcus’ cheeks turned pink again and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Emilie, as in Madam Pomfrey’s apprentice?” Draco wasn’t usually so slow on the uptake, but he’d had no idea this… whatever it was… had even been going on. Then again, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have a million things on his mind at any given moment, and rarely had time to focus on the love lives of his fellow staff members. As the pieces of this little puzzle started to come together, though, he felt his lips tug up in the beginnings of a smirk.

“So, you fancy her?” he couldn’t resist teasing the other wizard just a tad.

“Yes, uh, we’ve been spending quite a bit of time together lately, and both have a love for classic literature. Muggle literature, that is.” Marcus eyed him nervously as if he’d said something wrong, but Draco simply nodded in understanding.

“Hermione does, too. She’s even got me reading some of it. Well, between her and Theo, I really didn’t have a choice,” he snorted as he thought about the absolute dissertation the two had launched at him last spring regarding his lack of familiarity with the great and revered authors they harbored such admiration for.

“Theo Nott?” Marcus couldn’t hide his shock, “He reads Muggle books?”

“Oh, yes, has since he was a boy,” Draco sniggered, “Did it solely to infuriate his father, though Nott Sr. never actually knew.”

“Huh,” the former Ravenclaw considered this new information before shaking his head and coming back to his current predicament. He pointed at the paper again, “Do you think you could translate that into French? I want to put it with her Christmas gift, but I don’t know anything beyond _merci, oui_ , and _bonjour_.” He rolled his eyes in good-natured chagrin and was rewarded with another low laugh from the Flying Instructor.

“Sure, I can do that. Is it alright if I get it back to you later?”

As he finished speaking, the first of his students started wandering through the door, and he knew he wouldn’t have time right then. Marcus nodded eagerly, told him there was no rush, and thanked him profusely before making his way to his own lesson with Professor Sinistra. He refolded the small piece of parchment and tucked it into his pocket, making a mental note to do the translation that evening, before turning his attention to the room full of Fourth Years now seated before him.

ooOoo

Looking forward to a quiet, relaxing night, after a day spent putting out fires for everyone, Draco enjoyed dinner with his tablemates, and paid particular attention to the interactions between Marcus and Emilie. Both of them were on the shy side, and neither seemed willing to express anything bolder than a fleeting glance or small smile in the other’s direction. He grinned to himself as he remembered all those months he did the same with Hermione.

As everyone was finishing up and heading off in various directions, the Head Girl, a Slytherin named Tabitha, turned to Penelope.

“See you at Charms Club in a bit!” she announced cheerfully before waving at them all and taking her leave. Penelope stared after her in wide-eyed alarm.

“Oh, no,” she groaned after a beat or two, “I completely forgot.” She propped her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands, “I promised I’d go officiate their little competition, but I’ve got three Sixth Years sitting detention for me at the same time!” She dragged her fingers down her face, looking more harried and stressed than her typically-poised demeanor usually allowed, and glanced imploringly around the table to the her remaining peers.

“I’m sorry, I’m helping Professor Sprout with the moonflower harvesting,” Neville shrugged apologetically.

“I vould help, but I am meeting vis the Gobstones Club. Zhey are also having a bit of a competition,” Aleksei explained, also regretful.

Draco was the only one left at the table, and huffed a theatrical sigh as Penelope’s imploring gaze landed on him, “I suppose I could oversee your miscreants.”

“Thank you so much, Draco, I appreciate it!” the curly-haired witch beamed at him, “They’ll be in my classroom in about fifteen minutes, and are meant to write lines. Don’t hesitate to ask next time you need a similar favor.” She hopped up from her chair and strode towards the doors with another word of thanks trailing after her.

“Guess I need to head to the Transfiguration room,” Draco heaved himself out of the chair as Neville and Aleksei did the same, “See you blokes later.”

Penelope had already laid out the parchment scrolls, quills, and inkpots the students in question were intended to use. It had been a new measure taken that year among all the staff; to provide the necessary tools for detentions, since several older students had apparently learned to spell their own belongings to make the task go much quicker. Just as Draco had settled into the seat behind her desk, three Sixth Years appeared in the doorway; two Gryffindors and one Slytherin. He knew each of them from their Defense classes and was honestly unsurprised to find them in trouble, seeing as they all had a penchant for mischief and often were the recipients of his most intimidating, do-we-have-a-problem, glare.

Stifling a laugh at the look of surprise and, dare he think it, fear crossing their faces as they cautiously approached, he simply stared them down as they shuffled all the way to the front row and slid into the three seats directly before him.

“Professor Clearwater had other things to attend to this evening, so I am here in her stead. I believe you are to write lines,” he stood and set about distributing the utensils they’d need. “Care to tell me exactly what you did to land yourselves in here on this fine, Wednesday evening?”

Sheepish grimaces were exchanged between the three wizards before one of them, a Gryffindor by the name of Duncan, grudgingly spoke.

“We were supposed to be reviewing one of the spells we’ve done before; lovebirds to lovenotes, flobberworms to fritters, or pawn to queen. Elliot,” he cocked his head towards the other Gryffindor, seated to his right, “wound up only sort of getting his flobberworm transfigured.”

“Sort of transfigured?” Draco was curious.

“Yeh, it looked like a right puddle of sick,” Elliot explained in a thick, Scottish brogue, “Like a lumpy pancake, yeh ken? Solid, but still slimy. And the lumps were… were the worm.”

Draco shuddered at the thought and all three boys nodded in miserable agreement.

“Okay, so you made a mistake,” he prodded, thinking there was no way Penelope would have punished her students for not getting the spell right.

“Yeah, but then they started throwing that _mistake_ around the room,” sneered the Slytherin boy, a dark-skinned lad named Venezio, who could have been Blaise’s brother, had his nose been a little narrower, and his eyes a dark brown instead of the hazel shade they were.

Draco’s brows shot up into his fringe. Surely they hadn’t been that stupid.

Venezio nodded vehemently, having seen the older wizard’s expression, “Mmhmm, they thought it would be a good idea to duplicate the nasty thing and fling them at other students.”

The two culprits at least had the good sense to look properly shamed by their awful idea, but Draco was confused.  
  
“So why exactly are you in here?” he asked the Italian wizard.

A smirk lit up the lad’s face, “I sent the one that landed on my desk back at Duncan. Made sure it landed right on his head.”

Draco couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or throw up at the thought. Shuddering again, he scowled at all three of them, “Right then, you all need to fill your three-foot rolls of parchment with the following lines.” He brandished his wand towards the blackboard, where a sentence appeared in his looping script:

_I will not act like a troll, or cause such a disgusting disruption in any class, ever again._

The boys sniggered when they read it, but their mirth faded as he spoke again.

“ _Both sides._ Now get to work.”

Silence filled the large classroom, except for the steady scratching of quill on parchment, and Draco decided now was as good a time as any to work on that translation for Marcus. Pulling the note from his pocket, and fishing a fresh piece of paper from his satchel, he fervently hoped that tomorrow would be much quieter and in far less need of his assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely adore Draco in teacher-mode; I love to envision his interactions with his students, and it's clear he enjoys the positive relationships he's established with everyone. Having the students come to him for advice/help shows how much they trust and admire him, which is a big deal considering his past.  
> I'm finishing up a new Country Magic o/s (haven't done one of those in a looooong time!) and would love for you to check it out. It's entitled "One of Them Girls" and is the sappiest version of Draco I've written so far ;) He's adorable. I hope this week has been kind to all of you, my lovely readers, and wish you a relaxing weekend! <3


	38. The Thought That Counts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The topic of gifts is on everyone's mind with the holidays approaching, especially the housemates' Christmas Party, so Draco and Neville do a bit of shopping, and Hermione has a visitor.

_What do you get a wizard who has everything?_ The question repeated itself on a regular basis as Hermione went about her usual routine. Draco already had more books than some local libraries, enough collectibles to start his own museum, and a wardrobe to rival David Beckham, (who’d been GQ’s most stylish man the year before). Though the Malfoy vaults had been noticeably reduced since the war, he still had an obscene amount of money, making her feel like anything she might possibly come up with would be a bit of a joke.

Last year had been a different story – for starters, his gift was directly connected to the Secret Santa game. But even when it came to his birthday, being at the castle meant being limited to the shops in Hogsmeade, or whatever she could order by owl. His birthday presents to her this year had been incredibly thoughtful and sweet, but she knew the bracelet had cost more than her week’s paycheck, and the snow globe had obviously been custom made. She didn’t want to get him anything related to his job, nor did she want to go the typical Quidditch route. She wanted it to be meaningful and creative; something he would be equally surprised by and thrilled with. For the first time in a very long time, her mind was completely void of ideas.

She was following this train of thought once again as she tread the familiar path down the hall to her office, smiling a greeting to whatever coworkers she passed, and noting with relief that Warrington’s office door was closed again. Ever since her outburst against him and his unwanted advances, he’d steered clear of her as much as possible. It seemed his work kept him out of the building even more nowadays than it used to, and when he was there, he kept his door shut and his presence as undetected as possible. No one seemed to be complaining, least of all his neighbor across the hall. On one of the rare occasions his door had been open, she had noticed he’d rearranged his desk once again and now was completely hidden from her line of sight. She’d been unable to stifle the laugh that bubbled up entirely, though no one had been around to inquire as to the source of her amusement.

Settling in behind her mildly cluttered desk, Hermione had just determined to focus her attentions on an upcoming case involving a piece of legislation regarding the boundaries set for a Centaur herd in Macclesfield Forest in Cheshire. The section of the ancient wood they had long inhabited had recently come under Muggle scrutiny due to the presence of an almost-extinct species of owl. Though the boundaries had been warded against non-magical presence, the birds had started nesting too close for comfort and the leader of the herd had reached out to the Ministry in an unprecedented attempt to ask for help. The case had immediately been brought to Hermione, who was currently in the process of writing up a proposal that would both extend the boundaries slightly, as well as reinforce protective enchantments so the herd could continue to live in peace.

Completely submerged in the details of her project, she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her office, or the first knock on her open door. The second brisk rapping did indeed break through her single-minded interest and her eyes flew up to find a grinning Oliver Wood standing in her threshold.

“Oliver!” she exclaimed with genuine surprise, “What brings you here?” She moved around her desk and greeted him with a quick hug before gesturing to one of the empty seats across from her own.

“Well,” his grin turned mildly sheepish as he ran a hand across his the back of his neck, “I wanted to pass an idea by you, and figured I’d go ahead and do it in person since I was going to be here anyway. Had to stop by Magical Games for a mo’ and thought…” his words trailed off as he seemed to be second guessing himself, but his former housemate was quick to reassure him.

“That’s perfectly fine! It’s no trouble at all. What idea did you have?” Hermione had a pretty good idea what this was all about, but figured she’d let the broad-shouldered Keeper broach the subject in his own way.

“Well, y’see, I think I’ve come up with a gift for Daphne. Your suggestion about taking her somewhere got me to thinking,” he paused and considered how he wanted to explain his plan, “I want to take her to the Victoria and Albert Museum. It’s the world’s largest display of fashion and design, and I think she’d really enjoy it. She’s never been to a Muggle museum of any sort; I snuck a question about that in our floo call last week.” He flashed a smug grin which made Hermione chuckle before continuing, “I’ve only been to one Muggle venue before – a zoo when I was about twelve. I’m not worried about navigating London, but I’m less sure about tickets, or when the best time to go would be. Wondered if you'd have any thoughts?”

Hermione considered it for a second or two, tapping a forefinger on her chin idly as she mulled over Oliver’s plan. Suddenly she snapped her fingers and pinned him with an excited gaze, “I’ve got it! Let me double check, but I’m almost positive the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol has several agents on duty over there. If so, they would be able to get you in during a time Muggles aren’t around, or at least aren’t as plentiful. That would allow you much more time, and you wouldn't have to worry about anyone overhearing your conversation. Plus, having the place to yourself would be rather romantic.” She winked at him and though his cheeks flushed bright pink, he couldn't hide the grin that stretched his friendly face.

“Really?” Oliver looked extremely pleased, “That would be amazing. I’d really appreciate it.”

She waved her hand, indicating she was happy to help, “I’ll look into it before the end of the day and let you know, if that’s alright?”

“Perfect,” he beamed.

“It’s a wonderful idea, Oliver. I know Daphne will absolutely love it.”

His expression turned almost bashful, but he sat up a bit straighter, “I know I could buy her something; sewing supplies, or some fancy accessory, but I just felt like she’d appreciate the experience more than some bauble or trinket, yeah?”

“Definitely,” the curly-haired witch agreed wholeheartedly. The two former Gryffindors chatted amicably for several more minutes before Oliver announced he needed to go, thanked her again, and took his leave. Just as he was exiting her office, the door across the way opened and a flash of utter shock appeared on Quintus’ face when he registered the famous Quidditch player striding down the hall. He snapped his gaping mouth shut and shifted his gaze to find a pair of wide brown eyes watching him with obvious amusement. His own blue stare narrowed at once and he scowled in her direction before pulling his door shut with a loud _click_ and stalking off down the corridor. Hermione just sniggered and shook her head. Warrington was probably annoyed to find out she was friends with Oliver, but then again, the arrogant Pureblood seemed to find everything she did irritating ever since she put him in his place, not that his ire bothered her in the least.

She intended to jump right back into the files in front of her, but something Oliver said kept niggling at her brain. He wanted to give Daphne an _experience_ , not just a present. She understood his logic completely, and felt it was exactly the right solution for her own problem in trying to determine a gift for Draco. She pulled a blank piece of parchment over and began a short list, starting with a reminder to check on the status of agents at the museum, and continuing with a list of possible destinations for her own use, as well as the names of a couple of specific people who could help her orchestrate the whole endeavor. Feeling quite pleased with the sudden brainstorm, she returned to the task at hand with renewed vigor and more than a little excitement.

ooOoo

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Draco had also been spending the majority of his free moments considering Christmas gift ideas. He wanted to get his favorite witch something she would treasure, something that showed how well he knew her, something that she would never have guessed at or even considered he would procure for her. He knew how much she adored books, but was not about to get her one after Theo’s undeniably perfect offering last year. However, he couldn’t entirely shake the idea of doing something related to her love of literature. So he pondered the beginnings of this idea anytime he had a moment to himself. He’d taken to keeping a piece of parchment in his robe pocket so he could whip it out and add a fleeting thought to the ever-growing list before launching into his next lesson and forgetting whatever his brain had just churned out.

The Tuesday before the housemates were set to gather for their December Game Night, he and Neville decided to brave the snowy grounds and visit the village in order to search for their White Elephant gifts. Draco had peppered Harry with questions about the odd sounding exchange the previous week, and was confident in his understanding of the expectations of the items, as well as the strategy of the game. He explained it as best he could to Neville as they walked down the sloping grounds, and both decided their surest bet for an appropriate (or inappropriate?) gift would be Zonko’s. However, as the two young men perused the brightly packaged items on the stocked shelves in the hamlet’s joke shop, they were left uninspired. Sure, there were a variety of gags and tricks, but nothing their friends hadn’t seen before, and nothing that the Weasley’s hadn’t done a newer, better version of in more recent years.

Leaving the small store, they paused for a moment on the snow-dusted cobblestones, wondering where to go next. A bitter wind whipped around them and made the closest establishment seem like the brightest idea, which just happened to be Gladrags, where Daphne was settling accounts for the day. The bell jingled above the door as they entered, faces red from the minutes spent in the cold, and smiles bright as they greeted their friend.

“What are you two doing out? It’s freezing tonight!” she admonished, though she made a beeline around the counter to hug them both. They explained their venture and she nodded in understanding, inviting them to pull up stools at the counter while she finished up.

“I was just thinking about that myself. I think I’ve decided to make something,” she told them.

“What are you going to make?” Neville was curious.

“Well, I suppose _alter_ would be a better description,” she smirked, “I was helping Missus Beecham clean out one of the back storage closets and came across the ugliest hat I’ve ever seen.” She let out a contagious giggle that had both wizards laughing with her as she went on, “It’s basically a top hat, but it’s an awful shade of mustard yellow, and it’s not as stiff – more crumpled and wonky. I’ve set aside some fabric scraps that will clash fabulously with the yellow, and even found a ridiculous peacock feather and what looks like a fake bat wing that I’m going to decorate it with.” The pretty witch looked incredibly proud of herself as she shared her plan and Draco was impressed, even though he wasn’t sure he could come up with anything quite so atrocious.

“So, the gift doesn’t have to be new or even usable?” Neville asked for clarification.

“Nope, not at all,” Daphne shook her head, “In fact, I think the more obscure, the better.”

“Hmmmm,” Draco mused, “I wonder if Dervish and Banges might have any abandoned items on hand.”

“Oooh, that’s a great idea,” she beamed at him, Neville nodding in agreement.

“We should head there before they close for the night,” Draco stated and Neville hopped up at once, ready to go.

“Come back once you’re done and show me what you found!” Daphne called after them as they braced themselves for the frigid air that would meet them outside, and they hollered back that they’d be happy to oblige.

The magical instrument repair shop was a much more successful excursion. Draco told the clerk they were looking for random, odd, damaged items that could be used for a prank gift, and the wiry middle-aged man was more than happy to help. He scurried off to the back of the store and returned almost immediately with a large crate floating in front of him, overflowing with all manner of unusual objects. Before he even set it down on the floor, Draco could see a string-less violin, an ornate wall clock with no hands, a small cauldron that seemed to be housing a rather dead fern, and an hourglass filled with floating bubbles instead of sand. He and Neville grinned at each other and thanked the clerk who insisted they dive in and find their treasures.

After a quarter of an hour digging through the jumble of would-be trash, Neville had settled on a foot-tall ceramic figurine of an ugly troll. It had been painted to resemble a real one, but was wearing bunny slippers with actual, fabric ears, and had a tuft of greenish hair sprouting off the top of its lumpy head. It was gloriously hideous and they laughed for several minutes straight after he’d found it. The clerk, who by then had introduced himself as Allan, told them the story of an elderly witch who was cleaning out her house to move to the country and refused to take the small statue with her, regardless of whether or not her favorite grandchild had made it for her.

“I get all sorts of things, especially from people doing a cleaning. Trunks full of unwanted rubbish that they can’t bring themselves to throw away or vanish, so they dump it here, hoping someone else will want it,” he rolled his eyes, “Honestly, who would want a Muggle toaster that sings a Christmas song?”

That had gotten Draco’s attention, even as he’d just decided on the violin, thinking he’d string it with ribbons charmed to make odd noises, “A toaster, you say?”

“Yes, came in just the other day. A rather angry witch slammed it down on the counter and said if she had to hear it one more time, she’d go mad. Then she left.” He shrugged and waved his hand airily, “Haven’t even bothered to try to fix it since most magical folk don’t have any electricity in their homes.”

“Can I see it?” Draco asked, trying to hide an eager smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Allan nodded and disappeared down a side aisle where the shelves were crammed full of slightly less bizarre, and more usable objects. In a moment, he returned with a shiny metal toaster that looked exactly like the one Hermione taught him how to use in her family’s kitchen. Before the clerk had even set it on the counter, Draco pounced.

“I’ll take it!”

His enthusiasm was met with wide stares from both other wizards, but he just chortled gleefully and asked how much Allan wanted for it. At first, their new acquaintance was reluctant to charge them anything for items he considered worthless, but eventually caved and took forty sickles for both prizes together, and told them he hoped they’d come back soon.

Making their way back to Daphne’s, Neville couldn’t help asking, “A toaster?”

“Yup,” Draco smirked, “Remember how Hermione showed me how to use hers the summer before last?” By now, all of the housemates knew the _toast story_ , as it was affectionately referred to by the petite witch, and after thinking for a beat or two, Neville nodded in understanding.

“That’s right! I forgot about that,” he snorted a laugh, “Oh, this is perfect for you to give, then.”

“Exactly,” the tall blonde smirked as they entered Gladrags again.

Another brief visit with Daphne, during which she displayed the expected level of confused disgust over Neville’s troll, and surprised hilarity at Draco’s appliance, they all decided that they would have to wrap their gifts very well and add them to the collection on the night of the party without each other seeing, so that none of the three of them would know whose was whose.

“Only three more days!” Daphne cheered, “I’m so excited!”

“We’ll need to come back down here Thursday to get snacks,” Neville mused and Draco nodded as he started compiling a mental list of everything they would need. They used up the pumpkin juice and mead at the last Game Night, and only had one bottle of firewhiskey left. Dean had owled and asked him to see if he could find any Christmas crackers they could set out at one of their meals, so he needed to make sure they did that, too.

Bidding their fashionable friend goodnight, they made the trek back up to the castle as quickly as possible, since the temperatures had dropped even further in the time they’d been gone, and their ears felt like they could fall off at any moment. Once back in the welcoming warmth of the Entrance Hall, the young men agreed to repeat their journey in two days’ time before heading off to their respective apartments.

Draco set his new acquisition on the small kitchen table and smirked at it. It truly was exactly the same as the one the Grangers had owned, and he wondered for just a second if that one was still at Grimmauld. He felt mildly silly, remembering how he’d been so fascinated by the whole thing, and how he’d insisted Hermione needed to bring it with her that day. But then he considered that their entire interaction in her home, including the time spent discussing the Muggle tool and learning how to use it, had paved the way for the relationship they had now, so he really couldn’t bring himself to care overmuch about his insistence on getting it right. Shaking his head and huffing a low laugh, he pressed down the lever on the side and was met with a boisterous rendition of Celestina Warbeck’s _“Nothing Like A Holiday Spell.”_ He barked out a surprised chuckle as his grin grew even wider. It was perfect. The song played out in its entirety, and then the lever popped back up, causing a small puff of glitter to appear from the slots on top.

Humming to himself, Draco fixed a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits before sitting back down at the table, where he eyed the toaster for a minute. He decided to tinker with it a bit; make the song play a little quieter so it wasn’t quite so overbearing, and have a bigger, more sparkly puff of glitter appear at the end. He also removed the electrical cord, since it was completely unnecessary and just got in the way, and shined up the reflective surface. Across the bottom edge of the front, he spelled a short message to be etched into the metal.

 _Happy Christmas! White Elephant – 1999_.

This way, he figured, whoever was the lucky recipient of his amazing gift would remember exactly where they got it in the years to come. Thoroughly pleased with the way things turned out, he nodded once at the toaster before moving to the sofa, where a pile of essays waited to be graded before the night was through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love ridiculous gift swap games, and I can only imagine the crazy stuff one might be able to find in the Wizarding World! I hope everyone's Monday is bearable - stay safe and healthy, my wonderful readers! Thank you so much for sticking with me on this crazy ride! <3


	39. Familiar Festivities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The housemates gather for their Christmas Party weekend, news is shared, and plans are made.

Early Friday morning, before the Elves had even begun sending breakfast to the Great Hall, Draco was striding down the corridor to the Room. Knowing his schedule was packed from the first lesson to the last, he wanted to get a few things done before anyone could show up for the weekend.

Opening the tall, oaken door, he peered in to find a handful of Elves bustling about, obviously preparing the chambers for the soon-to-arrive housemates. One noticed him and approached him with wide, anxious eyes.

“We is freshening up, sir. Is we doing something wrong?” her squeaky voice and trembling ears reminded him of Dobby and he immediately set about reassuring the tiny creature.

“No, no, not at all,” he smiled kindly, “I wanted to… to decorate a bit. If I won’t be getting in your way, that is.” He honestly had no idea if there were rules about humans being around while they were working and didn’t want to get them in trouble.

“Oh, that’s fine, sir. Can we help?” the Elf was clearly relieved and eager to please.

“Well, I was going to conjure a tree,” he gestured to the space to the left of the fireplace, “And put a festive centerpiece on the table, and some mistletoe over the door.”

His statement was met with a happy smile and before he could even raise his wand to do any of it, the Elf snapped her fingers and everything appeared exactly as he’d imagined. The tree, already decorated with lights and baubles and candy canes, stood proudly next to the hearth which had roared to life at the same moment. The table now boasted a white brocade runner from one end to the other, with a gorgeous arrangement of Christmas roses, greens, and tiny white flowers overflowing from a silver bowl in the center. More greenery spread out from each side, dotted with red berries, and stout white candles interspersed throughout.

Draco grinned at his helper and thanked her profusely, which only caused her to goggle at him again, though she managed to tell him he only need ask her or any of her cohorts should he need anything else. Glancing once more around the now-festive space, he walked back towards the doors, only to stop when he noticed a clump of mistletoe magically suspended a few feet above his head, roughly three paces in from the threshold. He tucked that bit of information away for later, grinning at the thought of capturing Hermione under it as often as possible over the course of the weekend.

His task having taken much less time than he’d anticipated, he strolled at a leisurely pace back through the halls, down the stairs, and into the Great Hall, where only the earliest of risers were slowly trickling in for breakfast. He dug into his satchel for a quill, and pulled the ever-present parchment from his pocket, deciding now was as good a time as any to try to finalize his Christmas shopping list. Surprisingly, it had been rather easy to come up with gifts for Edward and Jeanette, as well as Andromeda, Teddy, and his mother. The faculty did not exchange gifts on the whole, but he’d wanted to do something for Bill and Fleur, and he’d also decided to get Potter a little something. Hermione’s present was still the bane of his creative existence and he was waffling between three different ideas, each of which would require more than a little time to put together so he really did need to decide.

Sooner than he’d expected, the hall filled with half-asleep students and equally foggy staff members, and in no time the seats around him contained his regular mealtime cohorts. Marcus nodded and gave him a meaningful look, which Draco understood meant all was going according to plan with regards to the other wizard’s pursuit of Emilie, who was conversing quietly with Tabitha as she buttered a piece of toast, though a bit of a blush seemed to be coloring her cheeks as he sat on her other side. Neville plunked down next to Draco and flashed a not-quite-awake grin as he helped himself to sausage and eggs. Eventually, everyone perked up enough to participate in a friendly conversation about favorite Christmas foods, and before long, the Headmistress was dismissing them all to their first lesson of the day.

Classes flew by, and aside from one minor episode during his Second Years’ Defense class, everything went swimmingly. Christopher accidentally hit Aiden with a tickling spell that knocked the boy into a fellow Hufflepuff who was supposed to be blocking her partner’s _Augamenti_ charm, and instead, they both wound up soaking wet. No real harm done, Draco had dried them off immediately and took the opportunity to teach them all that particular spell, should anyone else need it in the near future. Once the students were dismissed, he set the room to rights, made sure everything he needed for Monday was accounted for, and headed off to collect his things before going straight to his old dormitory where everyone would be gathering in a matter of minutes.

As he expected, he and Neville were the first to arrive, but they were quickly followed by Hannah, Daphne, Theo and Luna, all of whom immediately dug into their bags and produced their stockings from the previous year. Daphne was hanging them on the mantle, which the Elves had draped with berry-dotted greenery, when the last members of their party entered the Room. Hermione, Anthony, Padma, and Dean hollered a boisterous “Happy Christmas!” as they crossed the threshold, and followed suit in finding their own stockings before venturing a step further. In no time, the ten fuzzy socks were in their proper place over a roaring fire, hugs and greetings had been thoroughly exchanged, and catching up was in full swing.

“Did I tell you about my meeting with the manager of the Wimbourne Wasps?”

“Oooh, I read in the society pages last week that Marcus Flint got engaged to some French witch from Beauxbatons.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell them she was allergic to Fluxweek. I mean, it’s used in so many things!”

“Did you see he’s been trying to cover his bald spot? Keeps combing his hair in this weird pattern, like it’s not making it even more noticeable.”

“I told him he needed to rethink the whole thing. No one needs the mess of that exploding everywhere.”

Hermione’s head was spinning with the myriad of conversations happening around her and couldn’t seem to keep up with a single one. Was the Wasps’ manager the one with the bald spot? Or was that the bloke from Magical Catastrophes? She laughed to herself, thinking it really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, and was perfectly content to sit back and enjoy the company of her friends when a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

“I’ve missed you,” Draco pressed a kiss to her temple and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his side as they sank further into their shared couch cushion.

“I missed you, too,” she sighed, tilting her head back so she could see his face properly. “I’m so glad we’ve only one more week till the hols. I’m ready for a break, and more than ready for some extra time with you,” she smiled softly at the lopsided grin he flashed at her. It was still her favorite expression on his handsome face, as it was a clear indicator of how completely at ease and genuinely happy he was in that moment. He nodded and leaned in to kiss her forehead, her cheeks, and then her lips, earning himself a light giggle in the process.

“So what’s the schedule for this weekend?” Anthony asked the group at large.

“Tonight we’re doing dinner and a movie,” Hermione glanced at Dean to double-check and was rewarded with a nod of affirmation.

“Not the Silent Sheep!” Theo hollered and everyone laughed.

“No, I brought Christmas ones,” she assured him with a wink.

“Tomorrow we’ll do the gift exchange,” Dean added, “But that’s the only thing on the list for Saturday. We can do something during the day if you all want?” Thoughtful murmurs and nods met his suggestion and it was agreed that they would all think about possible activities as the night went on.

“Sunday we’ve got our Seconds coming, right?” Hannah asked, and Draco answered that one.

“Yes, and if the barrage of questions I’ve been pelted with all week is any indication, I think they've all done a bit of Christmas shopping for their mentors.”

Wide eyes met his statement and sounds of mild dismay rose up. Apparently none of the graduates had thought about exchanging gifts with their younger friends, and didn’t want to greet them empty-handed on Sunday.

“Well, then that’s what we can do tomorrow,” Daphne said decidedly, “After breakfast we can figure out what to get our mentees and then head down to the village to shop.” Her plan was met with great enthusiasm, though even that was eclipsed by the realization that dinner had been set out for them and everyone made a beeline for the delicious-looking spread.

Amidst the platters of meat, vegetables, and potatoes, the tureens of soup, and the baskets of rolls, Theo discovered an unusual dish.

“Is that… pizza?” he exclaimed in delighted disbelief. Sure enough, what appeared to be a small cheese and pepperoni pie was almost hidden by the festive centerpiece and a massive bowl of salad. The Muggle fare was only about eight inches across, but had been divided into ten equal slices, all of which disappeared as the plate was passed around the table.

Conversation ceased as the housemates tasted the Elves attempt at what had become one of everyone’s favorite foods.

“The pepperoni tastes just like the stuff from Geppetto’s,” Neville declared and several of his friends agreed.

“The cheese is… different,” Padma chewed thoughtfully, clearly trying to figure out how to explain her observation, “It’s good, it’s just, I don’t know, thicker?”

“Yes, definitely thicker,” Dean snorted as he pointed to the foot-long trail of cheese stretching from the piece in Anthony’s hand to the bite currently between the wizard’s teeth.

“The sauce is less spicy,” Hannah added and again, multiple heads nodded.

“Yeah, it seems sweeter,” Theo agreed, though he was perfectly content to continue munching on his piece.

“There’s something I can’t quite put my finger on…” Hermione was studying her piece with intense scrutiny as she poked the cheese aside with her fork to peer closely at the layer of sauce beneath. Draco was just about to comment on the crust, which he thought was the perfect level of crispness, when his girlfriend let out a disgusted sound that was somewhere between a shriek and a growl.

“There’s pineapple in it!” she brandished her fork, which did indeed have several miniscule chunks of the offending fruit speared on its tines, and everyone burst into howls of laughter at the thoroughly horrified expression on her face.

“Well, they tried, love,” Draco said consolingly, “I’m sure they’d be happy to leave it out next time if you tell them…” but his suggestion was met with such a ferocious glare, he gave up and simply chuckled while pulling her in to place a kiss on her curls.

“Pass it here, Hermione,” Theo was making a grabby gesture, indicating he’d be more than happy to finish her now-abandoned slice. She levitated it and waved it off, glad to be rid of it.

During the course of their meal, Draco and Neville filled everyone in on the latest goings on at the school, including the recent, blossoming relationship between Marcus and Emilie, the plans to add the topic of entertainment to the Muggle Studies curriculum, Hagrid’s acquisition of an Augurey, a half-dozen Firecrabs, and a litter of Crups, and Professor Slughorn’s recent decision to go on a diet. That last bit of news brought another round of raucous guffaws and rolled eyes as the former students considered the drastic change in lifestyle the Potions Professor would have to endure.

“Wonder how long that’ll last,” Dean chortled, shaking his head.

“Let’s wager,” Anthony suggested, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“Why would he even attempt that right before the hols?” Padma simply couldn’t understand.

“I give it a week,” Neville announced.

“He’s never going to be able to part with his crystalized pineapple,” Hermione chortled, remembering Harry’s accounts of the older wizard’s immense liking for sweets.

“What is it with you and pineapple?” Daphne teased her curly-haired friend.

“Oh, I don’t mind the sugared stuff, or the regular fruit, either. I even like it in cakes or puddings, just not on pizza,” Hermione explained with a theatrical shudder.

“You might want to rethink your Christmas present, mate,” Theo whisper-yelled to Draco with theatrical concern, causing everyone to laugh.

“Somehow I think he knows me better than that, Theo,” Hermione retorted and the lanky brunette simply shrugged and grinned in response.

The subject of their talk shifted to the upcoming gift exchange, with the majority of the group still not entirely clear about how it all was to work. After being peppered with questions, Dean finally held up his hands in surrender and offered to explain the whole thing from start to finish.

“So, everyone brought a gift, yeah?” his query was met with nine heads eagerly nodding, “And they’re wrapped so you can’t tell what they are?” More nodding ensued. “Right then, so we’ll put them all on a table and then we’ll draw numbers to see what order we go in. First person chooses a gift and opens it. Second person can decide to steal the first gift, or choose another one from the table. If the first gift is stolen, that person gets to pick another one off the table, and then the third person goes.” He paused, letting the rules sink in and bracing himself for the interrogation he knew was coming.

“How many times can you steal a gift?”

“Can you steal it back from the person who took it from you?”

“What if you unwrap a gift and then decide you’d rather have what someone else got?”

Dean looked pleadingly at Hermione, who was happy to assist her fellow Muggle expert in the group.

“A gift can be stolen no more than twice. You cannot steal it back from the person who just took it from you. You’re stuck with the gift you unwrap, unless someone steals it from you,” she looked around the table, “Everyone clear now?”

“Who gets the elephant?” Luna asked after a few seconds of contemplative silence.

“What?” Hermione was bemused.

“Well, it’s a White Elephant gift exchange, right?” the airy blonde asked, genuine curiosity etched on her delicate features, “So, where’s the elephant?”

“Oh, um, that’s just the name of the game,” Dean explained, “The origin of the term has to do with an impractical object that’s hard to get rid of, not a real elephant or anything.”

“Ohhh,” Luna considered this new bit of information, clearly oblivious to the amused glances her housemates were sharing.

“I’ll get you an elephant, love, if that’s what you want,” Theo leaned over and kissed her temple, earning himself an endearing smile and a gentle pat on the cheek from his blue-eyed witch.

“I don’t think the garden is big enough, but you’re very sweet for offering,” she pressed a kiss to his lips that left his eyelids fluttering and brought a blush to his cheeks. Once he regained his composure, he scowled at his companions and waved a hand dismissively.

“Off with you, nothing to see here,” which only caused them to break into laughter again.

With dinner completed, and everyone sufficiently full, they made their way back to the sitting area where the telly had already been set up, and extra pillows and blankets had been strewn about for the ultimate level of comfort.

“What are we watching tonight?” Hannah asked as they claimed their spots and hunkered down.

“I brought a few holiday ones,” Hermione, who had scurried off to her chambers for a moment, had just returned with a small stack of DVDs in her hands. As she had done before, she spread the selection out on the coffee table so everyone could see the options for themselves: _Home Alone 2, Miracle on 34 th Street, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_, and _The Santa Clause._

“There’s a sequel?” Padma exclaimed happily, picking up the case with the familiar looking little boy on it.

“What. Is. This?” Theo was staring fixedly at the picture on the front of the Rudolph DVD, brow furrowed in confusion as he took in the toy-like creatures.

“Have you never heard of Rudolph?” Dean asked, nudging the tall Pureblood in the arm and smirking, knowing full well that Theo had probably never heard of any of the traditional, Muggle, Christmas characters or stories.

“There’s a song, isn’t there?” Hannah piped up, having a little more knowledge of the non-magical world than most of her friends.

“Yes, there is,” Hermione nodded, “It’s in the movie!”

“Oooh, there’s too many choices,” Daphne wrinkled her nose as her bright blue eyes flickered between the titles.

“I say we watch the sequel, for tradition’s sake,” Anthony nodded sagely from his usual spot in one of the overstuffed armchairs.

“I agree,” Padma grinned widely as she plumped the cushions around her and spread a blanket over both her and Daphne, who had settled beside her on the couch.

“Everyone good with that?” Dean looked around and found eager expressions and succinct nods in all corners, “Right, then.” He strode up to the DVD player, put in the movie, turned up the volume, and waved his wand to dim the sconces around the Room.

“Oh! Here,” Hermione twiddled her own wand and a basket of goodies came zooming up from behind the sofa she and Draco had claimed. An array of Christmas-colored candy boxes, mixed with packets of crisps and biscuits, created a bright bouquet of munchies for the group. Dean pulled a crate of butterbeer and pumpkin juice bottles from somewhere, and a gigantic bowl of popcorn completed the mini buffet. Even though they’d all just eaten a rather large supper, no one refused a movie-time snack. Draco had hopped back up to inspect the variety and was taking an inordinate amount of time choosing.

“What are you looking for?” Hermione asked, anxious for him to sit back down since the opening credits were already rolling.

“These,” he turned around and tossed a pack of Candy Kittens in her lap, smirking as her eyes lit up, “I know you like them.”

Once he’d gotten himself situated again, he threw an arm around her shoulders and she leaned up to kiss his cheek in thanks. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread as he met her sparkling gaze for just a second before turning his attention back to the screen. It was not lost on him, the drastic turn his life’s path had taken over the last year and a half. He never would have imagined spending his Friday night stretched out on a sofa with his girlfriend – the Gryffindor Princess – surrounded by this eclectic group of friends, watching a Muggle movie. And yet, he wouldn’t change a single bit of it for anything in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are (almost) to the end of another week! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy and is able to find at least a little bit of joy in each day. I happen to thrive on routine and familiarity, so the past six months have not been my favorite, but I'm hoping we're getting closer to "normal" nowadays! Thank you so much for keeping me company in my imaginary world - I truly love hearing from you and appreciate each one of my wonderful readers! <3


	40. The Elephant in the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their holiday weekend continues, the housemates have their gift swap, and Draco makes a promise.

Shopping for their Second Years in Hogsmeade was a success for all involved. Neville had a bit of a brainstorm at breakfast, saying they could put together small gift bags with similar items in each one; things that referenced the younger students’ connection to their now-graduated mentors. Everyone agreed and a list was quickly made of possible things to include, one of which were Muggle card games, since they had been such a hit with the whole crowd previously. Thankfully, Dean kept all of those in his room and bounded off to grab them immediately. He spread them out on the table and used the duplication spell, Geminio, to create multiples of each one, and by the end he had four packs each of Uno, Go Fish, Old Maid, Phase Ten, Skip-Bo, and Dutch Blitz.

As they trooped off to the village, they decided to split into pairs and trios to complete their shopping a little quicker. Dean, Anthony, and Padma made a beeline for Honedukes, while Daphne, Theo, and Luna headed for Sweet Spells. Neville and Hannah decided on Zonko’s, and Draco and Hermione strolled off in the direction of Scrivenshaft’s. Roughly an hour later, they reconvened at the Three Broomsticks, arms weighed down with boxes and shopping bags, and pockets a little lighter from the galleons they’d spent, but thoroughly pleased with what they’d accomplished.

Once back up at the castle, they set about putting the gifts together. Hermione, to everyone’s relief, had thought to pick up festive bags to hold everything, and a bit of an assembly line was created. By the end, each Second Year would be the recipient of an overflowing parcel containing a box of assorted holiday candies, a miniature Christmas Pudding, a set of notecards and envelopes, a new quill, a trick ornament that made hilariously obscene noises whenever one attempted to hang it on a tree, a pair of Christmas-patterned socks, and a Muggle card game. Names were scrawled with glittery flair across the front of each bag, and all twenty-two of them were placed around the base of the twinkling tree by the fireplace.

After all the tissue paper and ribbon had been cleaned up and the table returned to its neat and proper glory, the housemates flung themselves into the squashy chairs and sofas as if they’d just all run a marathon.

“I need a kip,” Dean groaned.

“I’m afraid if I fall asleep now, I won’t wake up till tomorrow,” Padma commiserated.

“How about if we watch another movie till dinner, and then do the gift swap?” Draco’s idea was met with as much enthusiasm as they all seemed to be able to muster, and the regular debate about which one to choose ensued.

“I want to watch the one with the reindeer,” Theo insisted from inside of what looked suspiciously like a pillow fort that he’d constructed on the floor in front of the armchair Luna was curled up in.

“That’s one of my favorites,” Hermione admitted with a smile, “I watched it every year as a child, and most of the Christmases during Hogwarts when I went home.”

“Let’s put it in then,” Theo waved in the direction of the telly and Hannah, who happened to be coming back from the loo, was happy to oblige.

Forty-seven minutes later, everyone was humming the catchy tunes and amicably debating whether or not Rudolph could actually have guided the sleigh through such a thick fog, as well as why some of the toys were considered misfits.

“No wonder you like this one; he wanted to be a dentist!” Neville grinned at Hermione and everyone chuckled along with the petite brunette as she nodded vigorously.

“There’s virtually no other children’s movie that features dentists like that, so of course I identified with Hermey’s ambitions,” she chortled as she explained.

“That, and the fact that his name sounds like a shortened version of your own,” Daphne teased, knowing all too well how much her brilliant friend abhorred nicknames.

“Oooh, should we start calling you that, then? Hermey?” Draco poked her in the side, earning himself a small shriek and a menacing glare, which only served to make him laugh harder.

“Only if you wish to be known henceforth as Drakey,” she retorted with a disdainful sniff and was more than gratified by the disgusted look that crossed her boyfriend’s face.

“Okay, so no nicknames, then,” he cleared his throat and looked pointedly over at the table, obviously wanting to change the subject before anyone could take that and run with it, “I wonder when supper will be sent up?”

As if the Kitchen Elves had heard his question, in the blink of an eye, the table was filled with yet another enticing display of options. Happy murmurs and the rustling sounds of everyone hoisting themselves up from their lazy positions filled the air as they made their way over. Conversation picked up as food was ingested, and by the end of the meal, the ten friends were wide awake and excited about the gift exchange they were about to participate in. One by one they scurried off to their chambers to grab their mystery items, and in a few short minutes, the coffee table had been taken over by the oddest looking collection of presents any of them had ever seen.

Two of their number had been put in more traditional boxes, their rectangular shape hiding any indication of what might be inside, but one of those had clearly been wrapped in pages from a Muggle catalog, and the other appeared to be encased in aluminum foil. Both sported ridiculously large, horrendously colored bows; one of pea-soup-green velvet, the other a length of hairy looking orange rope. Six of the gifts had been rolled in festive holiday papers, but were so awkwardly shaped and lumpy, it was impossible to tell which end was up. One rather intimidating-looking one was perfectly round, wrapped in black fabric, and had the tiniest, hot pink, self-adhesive bow on top. The last appeared to be ensconced in an actual bath towel, the ends of which had been gathered together and secured with a silk necktie.

Once again, the housemates took their respective seats and Dean pulled the table up so it was at the head of their little semi-circle, allowing a clear view of all the packages. He then took a pack of cards from his back pocket and began shuffling the deck. He did this several times before fanning them out and extending them towards Luna, who was sitting closest to him.

“Everyone pick a card, and you can look at it and show it around, it doesn’t matter. It’s just going to tell us the order we’ll go in.”

Once everyone had a card, he had Draco choose a second one that Dean took for himself. Padma and Neville had both drawn fours, so Neville chose again and wound up with a seven.

“We’ll start with the lowest, the closest to one, which would be the Ace, and Kings are the highest. Anyone have an Ace?” No one did, or a two, for that matter, but Daphne had a three, so she was the lucky one to pick first.

“So, I just grab whatever one I want?” she looked to Hermione for clarification, and the other witch nodded with a smile. Daphne glanced back down at the selection and chose the tall rectangular box with the velvet ribbon. “Let’s see what this one is,” she eyed it suspiciously as she walked back to her seat beside Padma.

“Just so we can follow along,” Dean piped up as Daphne began tearing the paper off, “Once a gift has been selected, the person who brought it should say so.”

“Oh, well that one’s mine,” Anthony raised his hand and smirked.

The pretty blonde had opened the box and was peering inside, where there were clearly more of the Muggle magazine pages filling the space, with a perplexed expression, “Ummm, I’m not sure what this is.” She reached in and pulled out something with a long, wooden handle, attached to a reddish dome-shaped piece of very thick rubber.

Hermione, Dean, Hannah, and Anthony all started laughing, while the rest continued to look bemused.

“It’s a toilet plunger,” Anthony finally managed to explain, but it didn’t help his more traditional companions in the least, so he went on, “You use it to unclog a loo that’s been backed up… with… you know… stuff.” Finally it all clicked and the look of disgusted horror that filled Daphne’s face set everyone off into raucous giggles.

“It’s not a _used_ one, is it?” she squealed, dropping it back into the box as if it were on fire.

“Technically, it’s not new,” Anthony admitted, but rushed to clarify, “But it’s been _scourgified_ and washed with soap multiple times, so it’s perfectly clean!”

Daphne tried to glare at him, but the grin tugging at her lips eventually won out and she joined in with a hearty snigger.

“Okay, Padma, you’re next with a four,” Dean motioned for the dark-haired Ravenclaw to take her turn.

“Well, no offense, Daph, but I’m not stealing that,” she smirked as she approached the table where she seemed to deliberate between the black sphere, and one of the wonkier parcels. After a few seconds, she settled on a gift wrapped in green paper printed with red stockings and white snowflakes. She tore just the tiniest bit of paper and tried to peer at what was underneath before unveiling it to the whole lot of them. A look of confusion furrowed her brow, followed by her eyes widening as she further unwrapped her chosen prize. It was Neville’s ugly troll statue and everyone was in fits once they got a good look at it.

“Ohhh, this is lovely,” Padma wheezed, wiping her eyes and breathing deeply after laughing for almost a minute straight.

And so it went. By the end of the whole ordeal, which took almost two hours, no one had the gift they’d originally unwrapped, and a great deal of begging and bartering had taken place. When the dust settled, Dean had wrangled Draco’s toaster from Neville, who’d stolen it from Luna. Hermione had claimed Daphne’s bizarre hat, now jauntily perched on top of her curls, which she’d arranged into a messy bun. Hermione’s contribution had been a pink, princess phone she’d had as a child, and that she’d decided to bring along with her when she and Luna had gone back to pack up some things for her parents. Padma had gushed over it when Draco originally opened it, and had her opportunity to steal it later on. Draco, on the other hand, wound up with the plunger, which he announced would become his new “inspirational tool” in the classroom – an unspoken threat of what awaited students who stepped out of line.

Neville was quite happy with the moss-covered, whistling rock that Luna had brought, and Hannah found Padma’s screaming notepad absolutely hilarious. The round, black object everyone had been eyeing suspiciously turned out to be a fishbowl, complete with colorful rocks, tiny treasure chest and sand castle, and several plastic plants all permanently stuck to the bottom. Dean was the one who’d brought it, and Luna was thrilled to wind up with it, saying she would use it as a home for her favorite Plimpy from the stream. Hannah had wrapped a heavy glass jug in the other rectangular box, which Theo had originally opened and had almost dropped upon finding a shrunken head in the bottom of the corked container. She entertained them all with a story her great-uncle Tom had told her about a very bizarre customer he used to have. A warlock, whose name he never knew, came into the Leaky every day for almost a year, and often mentioned someone named Otto. One day, he told the barkeep he wanted to settle his tab, as he was leaving the country, and asked if Tom wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Otto for him. Thinking he was referring to a pet, or maybe even a houseplant, Tom agreed to the strange request, and the man plunked the jug on the bar, thanked him, and left. Apparently Otto was the name of the person the head once belonged to, and in the hopes that the customer might return, Tom kept the jug on the end of a high shelf behind the counter. Over the years, it became quite the conversation piece, but the man never came back to retrieve it. Since the whole thing happened roughly four decades ago, Hannah didn’t feel the least bit bad about getting rid of the creepy thing as she did a bit of redecorating and a thorough cleaning-out of the aged establishment. Anthony wound up with it and was ecstatic about it, saying he was going to put it on the desk in the Archives and claim it was his new receptionist.

At the very end, Daphne stole Theo’s gift from Hermione, who had unwrapped what had indeed been a towel. The dramatic jokester had actually turned a full-sized bathtub into a miniature keepsake, no larger than a soup bowl, complete with clawed feet, gilded edges, and shiny gold taps. The Pureblood witch said she needed it, as it was a reminder of all the childhood games of hide-and-seek they used to play, during which closets, bathtubs, and the spaces under beds were common spots. She insisted it was the perfect size to hold her measuring tapes, pins, and other sewing tools at the shop. Theo declared himself the victor of the exchange, clutching the troll statue to himself and announcing he had decided to name it Yukon (after the prospector in _Rudolph_ ), and didn't even seem to care when Dean informed him there would be no points awarded for that particular activity. 

Having laughed themselves silly, and after spending the necessary amount of time admiring each other’s treasures, the housemates decided to call it a night and began drifting off to their respective chambers. As always, Draco walked Hermione to her room, where he politely set the plunger outside the door before following her inside. They sat side-by-side on her bed, still chuckling about the events of the evening and remarking on the random yet creative items everyone had come up with. After a bit, Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder and stifled a yawn.

“Tired?” he asked as he pressed a kiss to the top of her curls.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, sinking further into him.

Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer to his side. He appreciated moments like this, when it was just the two of them and he could hold her for a bit. He couldn’t help but smile as he anticipated they would have many such moments over the holidays when both of them were on break, and was very much looking forward to it. His brain conjured a lovely image of the two of them, curled up in front of the fire in his sitting room (or as Hermione had dubbed it, his “mini museum”), when he heard her mumble something from within his embrace.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You could stay, you know,” she shifted and looked at him with sparkling, sleepy eyes, a soft smile curving her lips, inviting him to kiss her, which he immediately did. After several second of languid snogging, he pulled back and offered a lopsided grin and a shake of his head. “Just for sleeping,” she clarified as she snuggled back into his embrace.

“I wish I could,” he replied quietly, tightening his hold on her, and his brow furrowed as he tried to explain the internal war he always had with himself over this very thing. At that exact moment, clear as day, he heard both of his parents’ voices as they lectured and reprimanded, suggested and reminded – a familiar litany he’d been subject to more times than he could count throughout his formative years. Tangled up in it were feelings of resentment, guilt, anger, and fear, none of which were things he wanted to associate with any aspect of his relationship with Hermione.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I definitely _want_ to, I just… it’s not…” words were failing him and he was desperately afraid of hurting her, of making her think this had anything to do with her, or his feelings for her, which it didn’t.

Hermione pulled back and peered at him with a mixture of understanding and concern. The love he saw swirling in her fathomless chocolate eyes made his heart clench and his throat tighten. He knew he needed to give her some sort of reason for his reluctance, but how was he supposed to do that when he couldn’t even explain it to himself?

“Maybe this is something we can talk about during the hols,” she suggested, her head cocked in question as she continued to watch him intently. He nodded, feeling a rush of relief over the fact that she wasn’t angry with his inability to interpret his thoughts right then.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he gave her a sheepish look, “I promise I’ll work it out and be able to have a decent conversation about it by then.”

“I hope you know that no matter what you share with me, it won’t change anything,” her expression was still soft, but there was fire in her eyes as she spoke, “Nothing will change how much I love you, or how important you are to me, or how highly I regard you. Nothing.” She’d taken his hand in hers while she spoke and squeezed it tightly to punctuate her sentiments. He nodded again, overwhelmed with love for this incredible witch who’d taken complete control of his heart, and determined to follow through with his vow to address the conflict still raging inside.

He kissed her again and hoped she understood the unspoken gratitude and appreciation he tried to infuse into it, how much he loved and adored her, and how each fiber of his being longed to claim her in every way possible as his own. He thought she got the message, since by the time he finished, they were both breathless, red-faced, swollen-lipped, and moderately disheveled. The glazed-over look on her face would have been amusing had he not been one hundred percent certain he looked just as dopey. Pressing one final kiss to her forehead, he stood and made his way to the door, looking back as he reached the threshold.

“Goodnight, love, sweet dreams.”

Her answering smile didn’t help calm his thundering pulse and he grinned before shutting the door quietly behind him and heading off to his own chambers across the Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings from the start of another week! I think we're on #453 of 2020 (or perhaps it just feels that way). Y'all know how I am about details, so I hope you were able to see the gift swap as clearly as I do in my own head. Lol. And Draco... love his heart... that conversation will happen in a few chapters and will shed some light on his conflicted feelings on the topic. Also, my brain has been fiddling with the idea of a country song-fic starring Theo and Luna. Thoughts from my lovely readers? Hope everyone has a safe, healthy, and productive week! <3


	41. Season of Giving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Years arrive, more gifts are exchanged, and another movie is viewed. Hermione has one more present to give before she leaves, and Harry tells her his plans when she gets home.

The Second Years were ecstatic over their bags of goodies and couldn’t stop inspecting each item and exclaiming over every bit of it for a solid half hour. Their mentors were more than a little pleased at how well it had all gone over, and were happy to sit back and watch as their young friends discussed each gift in detail, and compared slight differences among them. The students had all bestowed their own presents on their older counterparts, and had also gone with a common thread running amongst themselves. Each of the pairs or trios had made, bought, or found items that represented the alumni in some way, and that item was then sized appropriately and ensconced in an unbreakable glass capsule. As such, Neville received an egg-shaped one that contained a tiny cactus, barely four inches tall, from his two charges, whereas Luna got a heart-shaped one filled with brightly colored flowers. Draco’s gift from Olivia and Christopher was a miniature broom in a narrow, oval shaped dome, and Hermione’s three young friends had created a cube of glass that housed a doll-sized stack of books, the top one clearly boasting the title of _Hogwarts: A History_. They were all very much like the paperweights Muggles might have on their desks, which was exactly what the Seconds intended their creative gifts to be used for. To say the older crew was touched by the thoughtfulness of the whole thing would have been a vast understatement, as hugs were repeatedly given and smiles seemed to be permanently affixed on all faces.

The plan for Sunday afternoon was to welcome their guests, distribute the gifts, catch up with everyone for a bit, and then put on one of the other Christmas movies Hermione had brought with her. Instead of a traditional afternoon tea, they decided to do a more festive, _afternoon hot cocoa_ , and the long table was laid with large mugs, carafes of the steaming chocolate, and a variety of toppings such as marshmallows, sugar sprinkles, syrups for drizzling, whipped cream, and candy sticks for added flavor as they melted into the rich drink. The Kitchen Elves had also provided an abundant display of Christmas biscuits, iced and decorated with such detail they were almost too pretty to eat. Almost…

The housemates had decided to watch _The Santa Clause_ , which was the newest of the films in the collection, and something they thought everyone would enjoy. After breakfast that morning, Dean and Anthony had thought it a brilliant idea to increase the amount of seating available, and had duplicated both sofas and all four armchairs. Theo then decided that more pillows and blankets were a necessity, and the common area now looked as if a home décor shop had exploded in its midst, with no less than fifty cushions piled about on the rug, and an equal number of blankets stacked within easy reach of anyone present.

“Theo, they’re not camping out here,” Padma surveyed the exorbitant amount of textiles with exasperation.

“One can never have too many pillows!” Theo insisted, causing everyone to laugh.

Apparently the twelve-year-olds now sharing the space thoroughly agreed with the lanky brunette, as all of them gleefully grabbed some for themselves and began settling down in ultimate comfort. Hermione couldn’t help laughing as she surveyed the scene when she went to turn the telly on; not an inch of floor space could be seen between the witches and wizards currently sprawled on the overstuffed furniture, or the plush rugs beneath, each wrapped up in fuzzy blankets and looking for all the world like a nursery of toddlers waiting for a bedtime story. She motioned for Hannah to take a picture, which the smiling Hufflepuff was perfectly happy to do, and pressed ‘ _play_ ’ as soon as the shutter stopped clicking.

About ten minutes in, Dean had to pause the movie and make the general announcement that they would answer questions and explain Muggle things at the end, but if everyone could please _just watch_ , he was sure they’d be able to follow along perfectly fine. The older group chuckled, but they knew they’d been equally guilty when they’d first experienced this form of entertainment. Even with their broader knowledge of the non-magical world, queries were still whispered to their more-informed friends as the story unfolded.

“Wait, how did he shrink to fit down that pipe?” Draco whispered to Hermione, his eyes wide, jaw slack.

“It’s done with a computer. He didn’t really shrink,” she giggled quietly.

“Did the actor actually gain all that weight?” Padma leaned over and asked Dean, who grinned and shook his head, mouthing the word _‘costume’_ in answer.

“But how did they get the reindeer to fly? I mean, those are real animals!” Theo blurted out at one point, only to be shushed by his friends as Draco smugly turned to him and whisper-yelled ‘ _computers_ ’ which earned him a poke in the ribs and caused him to yelp in squeaky protest.

As soon as the end credits rolled, the Seconds exploded with questions, opinions, and random bits of information they considered pertinent to the topic, the most commonly recurring one being that of the existence of Santa Claus in the first place.

“Muggles really believe in Santa Claus?”

“But they don’t believe in magic?”

“How do they explain how he gets to every single child in one night?”

“Do they think magic only exists in the North Pole?”

“Is it just children who believe the story? Or grown-ups too?”

Round and round the conversation went, with each of the housemates getting bombarded with questions, some of which were rather impossible to answer, especially since Wizarding families do not typically tell their children the story of Santa Claus. That meant Dean and Hermione were left with the bulk of the answering responsibilities, though by the time it wound down, the others were quite informed on the subject as well.

“I think it would be really cool if it could happen,” Darla admitted dreamily.

“But we don’t need Santa, or magic to make reindeer fly, or Elves. We’ve got two of the three already,” insisted Andrew in his logical way.

“Those Elves look nothing like ours,” Malcolm muttered, causing everyone to laugh in agreement as they began to get up and say their goodbyes. Though the past two gatherings had gone later into the evening, the recent graduates had decided to shut this one down a little earlier. They were heading into the last week before the holidays, and many of them didn’t even have a full week of work to get things done at their respective jobs, much less finish shopping for gifts and anything else they needed to accomplish in preparation for Christmas. A few extra hours at home that evening would be most helpful in that regard.

The Room emptied rather quickly, with hugs and farewells bestowed, and promises to see one another over the break. Multiple requests had been made for Harry to host another New Year’s Eve party, and Hermione had a feeling her best friend didn’t have much of a choice, as last year had been such a success. Draco walked her to the Head’s office and they chatted about upcoming plans along the way.

“Mother is thoroughly ecstatic about it,” he flashed her a lopsided grin and squeezed her hand, “She owled the other day asking if I thought your parents would prefer the formal dining room over the family one, and if they’d like one of the House Elves to be assigned specifically to them during their stay.” He rolled his eyes and huffed, “This is after she’d already asked about meal times, sheet and towel preferences, and if she should redecorate the sitting room again.”

Hermione laughed, truly touched by the effort the Malfoy matriarch was putting forth for her family, but not needing any of it, really. She told Draco as much, but he insisted she knew how his mother was and they both nodded with good-natured exasperation. The curly-haired witch had corresponded several times with Narcissa in recent weeks, coming up with a loose schedule for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the two days that followed. Unbeknownst to Draco, Hermione had actually visited the Manor just the week before so she could show Narcissa and Andromeda exactly what she was referring to in one of her missives, and both had been as excited as young school girls about it. It was going to be a wonderful holiday, she was sure.

As they reached the curving staircase, Draco wrapped his arm around her tightly and dropped a kiss on the top of her head, “I’ll see you in five days. Haven’t gotten to say that before.” He grinned at the thought and felt Hermione nod against his chest.

“I can’t wait,” she tilted her face up to him and popped up on her toes to lay a quick kiss on his lips before they stepped through McGonagall’s door.

“Ah, Miss Granger, heading off?” the brisk voice of the Headmistress met them as they entered the opulent office. As usually, the older witch was seated behind her large desk, papers strewn about in front of her, her quill poised mid-writing as she took in the young couple before her.

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione smiled and approached her mentor, digging into her bag as she went and pulling out a small box, wrapped in red paper and adorned with a gold, sparkling ribbon. McGonagall’s brows lifted in surprise and her eyes flickered up to meet those of her former student. “Happy Christmas,” the younger witch said joyfully, laying the box on the desk.

“Well, this is unexpected,” the Headmistress adjusted her spectacles on the end of her nose and pulled the gift closer to herself, but paused and looked back at Hermione in question.

“Oh, yes, open it,” she beamed and flapped her hand in a ‘ _go on’_ sort of motion, “I ran into a stationery store on my way home from work recently and saw these and immediately thought of you.”

McGonagall pulled off the ribbon and unwrapped the rectangular box. She lifted the lid and pulled back the tissue paper inside and stared at the contents for several seconds, blinking owlishly as if unsure what she was looking at. Hermione giggled and came to her assistance at once.

“They’re pens – Muggle writing utensils – and they have cats on them, which of course made me think of your _Animagus_ form.”

True enough, there were three fountain pens, each exquisitely decorated with a highly-detailed illustration of a cat; one calico, one ginger, and one grey that looked almost identical to the form the formidable witch took from time to time. There was also a small bottle of ink tucked inside as well.

“You’ll need to fill them with the ink, but they last a long time and you don’t have to keep dipping them back in like a quill,” Hermione explained and Draco, who had remained by the hearth, noticed she was fidgeting with her hands, a sure sign she was nervous about how her gift was being received. Thankfully, McGonagall shifted her attention from the items in front of her to the witch across the desk and a genuine smile creased her wrinkled face.

“Miss Granger, these are lovely. Thank you so very much,” she stood and came around the desk to embrace her favorite pupil, truly touched by the young woman’s thoughtfulness.

“Thank you for letting us barge in here every month,” Hermione chortled, returning the hug.

“Oh, it is my pleasure, dear,” the usually severe witch said sincerely, “I’m glad you all are staying in touch and keeping up your connection with your Seconds, as well. I do not expect this year’s batch to do the same, as there are so many more of them, and they’ve not had one specific place to come together.” She paused and looked appraisingly at the petite brunette before her, “You’re group is a special exception, I think.”

No doubt heartened by the compliment, Hermione hugged the Headmistress again before stepping back with a radiant smile on her face. Wishing her mentor a wonderful holiday, she strode back to the fireplace where Draco was waiting and entwined her fingers with his.

“Five days,” she said softly, her eyes sparkling as she gazed up at him. He nodded and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips (they were still in front of his boss, after all), and whispered his love before steering her towards the emerald flames. After she’d spun out of sight, he turned to find McGonagall watching him from behind her desk, where she’d returned to study Hermione’s present.

“Is everything in order for your classes this week, Coach Malfoy?” she inquired and he took it as an invitation to sit down across from her.

“Yes, Monday and Tuesday will be exams for all the Defense classes, and I’m giving a bit of a practical test for the flyers I didn’t see last week.”

She nodded approvingly while fiddling with one of the pens, clearly trying to determine how to open it to fill it with ink. He let her attempt it for about five more seconds before offering to help. At first, he wasn’t sure she’d let him, as McGonagall’s independent streak was just as strong as his girlfriend’s, but she handed it over with an almost-sheepish look on her face. It wasn’t often he knew how to do something a member of the faculty didn’t, but Hermione had shown him all manner of Muggle writing tools last year and as a result, he was familiar with fountain pens. He demonstrated how to remove the cap, unscrew the barrel, and expose the converter where the ink would go. He asked her to open the inkwell, and then showed her how to turn the knob on the end to shift the plunger all the way down to the bottom of the cartridge. Carefully placing the tip of the pen in the ink, he twisted the knob in the opposite direction, drawing the ink up into the converter until it was full. He then replaced the barrel and handed the pen to her, and encouraged her to try it out.

McGonagall had watched the entire exercise with focused intensity, her narrowed eyes following his every move. When she took the pen in her hand, she seemed surprised at how weighty it was and spent a second or two getting used to the feel of it and the way she would hold it to write. Shifting the papers that covered her desk off to the side, she plucked a blank piece of parchment from a nearby pile and tested her new utensil out by making small circles and lines in the upper corner. Satisfied that it worked, she signed her name in the center of the page and couldn’t hide the pleased expression that flitted across her face. She repeated her signature with great flourish and looked up at Draco with obvious satisfaction.

“This is marvelous, Coach Malfoy, thank you for assisting me. I’m sure I would have spent much longer here trying to figure it out on my own,” she nodded in thanks, a gesture he returned, and then dropped her gaze back to the item in her hand, clearly enthralled with its capabilities. “Quite an impressive invention, I’d say,” her lips twitched, “Muggles are rather creative beings, aren’t they?” The glint in her beady eyes was unmistakable as she pinned him with her stare, and he had no qualms about agreeing with her.

“Oh, absolutely,” he grinned, “Though some more than others, I think.”

“Hmmm, yes,” she pursed her lips in an obvious attempt to keep her smile from spreading and sat up a little straighter in her chair, “I shall owl Miss Granger first thing tomorrow to let her know how much I appreciate her thoughtful gift.” She began rifling through the papers she’d moved aside, clearly intending to get back to her previous task, so Draco stood to take his leave.

“Have a good evening, Headmistress,” he bowed his head and strode towards the door.

“You as well, Coach Malfoy,” she called after him and as he closed the door behind him, he caught one last glance of her once again studying her new pen intently. As the stairs descended, he chuckled to himself and shook his head, a pair of wide, chocolate eyes and a head of riotous curls filling his mind’s eye as he strolled down the quiet corridor towards his chambers, and he couldn’t help being extremely thankful for just how creative his favorite Muggle-born happened to be.

ooOoo

Back at Grimmauld, Hermione had arrived just as Kreacher was getting ready to serve dinner, and Harry was already at the scrubbed wooden table with the evening edition of the _Prophet_ spread out before him.

“Hey! How was your weekend?” he greeted her with a smile.

“Really good,” she returned his grin in kind, “How was yours?”

“Fairly quiet. I didn’t get in until late on Friday. That case up in Shropshire took longer than we all expected, and I really didn’t feel like having to go back in Saturday to do paperwork, so,” he shrugged and folded up the newspaper, “But Saturday I hung out with Ron and George at the shop and we all went to the Leaky for supper. Earlier today I got to floo-call Ginny.” Harry tried to play it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, talking to his girlfriend, but Hermione saw the blush creeping up his neck and the even wider smile tugging at his mouth.

“And how is the love of your life?” she teased.

“She’s good, really good. Practices are going well, the tournament was a major success, and they’ll be headed back home in two days,” his eyes lit up as he shared this bit of news and Hermione couldn’t help but beam at him.

“Oh, Harry, that’s terrific,” she truly was happy for him. She knew how hard it was to be apart from Draco for weeks at a time, and with Ginny’s schedule, her time away was longer and with only sporadic breaks. The last time he’d seen her had been five weeks ago, and only for a quick lunch before she had to head back out again.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, “I’m actually taking off Thursday, so I can head to the Burrow a day early. I’m sorry I won’t get to see your folks when they arrive, though.” He looked imploringly at her and she waved him away without a second’s thought.

“Don’t be silly. They quite understand. When will you be coming back?”

“Well, technically, the Ministry is closed for the whole week between Christmas and New Year’s, but I’ve told Gin I need to come back Monday night for some meetings on Tuesday. Really, I just need a day to make sure everything is lined up for when I do the big ask, yeah?” His knee was bouncing with jittery nerves, his eyes bright with anticipation as he thought about all the little details he had to put in place before he proposed. “It’s rather mental, isn’t it, that a little over a week from now, I’ll be engaged?”

Hermione snickered, “Not mental at all. She’s going to be so surprised – I wish I could be there to see it.” She sighed wistfully and a worried look crossed the raven-haired wizard’s face as if he was honestly contemplating a way to make that happen. She rushed to reassure him, “No, no, Harry, I don’t mean literally. That would be completely awkward and I have no desire to barge in on your special moment. I just love romantic gestures. You’ll have to tell me all about it afterwards.”

Looking relieved, Harry nodded again, “Of course. And I’m sure Ginny will, too.”

At that moment, Kreacher interrupted them by placing steaming dishes of Spaghetti Bolognese in front of them, along with a basket of warm rolls and a bowl of salad.

“Kreacher, this looks amazing,” Hermione sighed and the wizened Elf bowed in appreciation of her compliment.

“Kreacher has been cleaning the guest room for Miss Hermione’s parents. Would Miss like greenery on the mantle and windows in there, as it is in the other rooms?”

“Oh, yes please, Kreacher. That would be lovely.” Number Twelve had become increasingly more festive as the previous week had gone on. Kreacher had not only done the large tree in the drawing room, but also smaller ones in the dining room, foyer, both Harry and Hermione’s bedrooms, and even a tiny one in the kitchen that stood on a stool in the corner. All the mantles and windows in the most-used rooms were decorated with fresh-smelling boughs of evergreen, a garland of the same draped the dark wood banister on every level, and a large wreath hung on the front door. Hermione had also noticed that the throw pillows on the sofas now sported red and green embroidery, and the towels in all the bathrooms were embellished with Christmas designs, too.

Kreacher bowed and scurried off, and Hermione waited until she was sure he was out of range before whispering to Harry, “I picked up several gifts for him last week. When are you giving him yours?”

Bright green eyes narrowed in thought, “Do you think I should do it before I leave Thursday? Or do you want to give him them with yours on Christmas Eve?”

“Oh, no, I think they should come from you, especially since one of them is a family heirloom.”

He nodded firmly, “Then I’ll do it before I head out.”

“Narcissa has said he’s welcome to come to the Manor and spend the holiday with her Elves, instead of being here all alone. Do you think he’ll want to come?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Harry snorted, “If there’s one thing I have learned in the last year or so about Kreacher, it’s that I should never try to predict what he’s going to do.”

“Very true,” Hermione huffed, “Remember how we finally had to hide the _Singing in the Rain_ DVD? I had no idea he’d get so attached to a musical!”

Another snort, “Or how about the time we asked him to play cards with us and he looked like we’d murdered someone? Vanished on the spot.”

The curly-haired witch was laughing outright now, “Oh, what about when we found that collection of half-used bars of soap in the closet? I still don’t know what he was doing with them!”

“Me neither,” Harry commiserated as they both dug into the delicious meal their extremely loyal, if more than a little eccentric, housekeeper had provided for them, while they continued to discuss holiday plans and their hopes for the upcoming season of cheer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I love, love, love, Draco and Hermione as a couple, I am super excited for Harry and Ginny, and we'll be seeing a little bit more of them in the upcoming chapters. Hope everyone's week has gone alright - stay safe and healthy my sweet readers! For my American friends, enjoy the long, holiday weekend!! <3


	42. Holiday Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is fast approaching, and everyone has their own surprises in store.

The Grangers arrived Thursday afternoon, after Harry had left for the Burrow, and while Hermione was still at work, but that had been expected, and they knew Kreacher would be home to welcome them. He did exactly that, appearing with a loud _crack_ just as soon as their feet touched the drawing room floor. Though Edward and Jeanette were familiar with international portkey travel by now, it still left them mildly discombobulated and greatly in need of a steaming cup of strong tea and a nice place to sit for a bit. The Elf was more than pleased to provide both, along with helping them get their luggage up to the room, returned to normal size, and opened for unpacking whenever they felt like it.

Jeanette was admiring the handsome tree in the corner near the fireplace, and asking Kreacher about the twinkling fairy lights (which he was proudly explaining in his bullfrog-ish voice), when the hearth flared green and Hermione appeared.

“Mum!” she cried, almost knocking her mother over, as she was standing right in front of the mantle. Wrapping Jeanette in an embrace, both to steady herself, and to greet the older woman, she looked further into the room and found her father sitting in one of the squashy armchairs, reading a book. “Dad!”

Edward grinned and came over to hug her once his two favorite girls had pulled apart, “Hello, sweetie, good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too. I’m so glad you’re here,” she beamed at her parents, “Any trouble with the portkey?”

“Not at all,” Edward declared and the three of them settled in to chat as Kreacher returned with more tea and a plate of Christmas petit-fours.

“Harry got off alright?” Jeanette asked with a knowing glint in her eye, having heard all about his exciting holiday plans for Ginny.

“He did. You’ll probably see him Monday evening; he’s coming back here so he can have Tuesday to get everything ready.”

“I’m so pleased for him. I know they’re young, but the boy deserves some real happiness and joy, doesn’t he?” Jeanette mused and Hermione couldn’t agree more.

“More than anyone I know,” she nodded emphatically, “He says they won’t have the wedding any time soon, but he might be underestimating Molly’s enthusiasm.”

“Did he speak with her parents beforehand? Officially?” Edward asked and Hermione knew exactly what he was referring to. Though her parents were fairly relaxed when it came to most societal expectations, there were a few things they did consider important, and a young man asking his future bride’s parents for their blessing was one of them.

“He did,” she smiled as she recalled the story of Harry visiting Molly and Arthur at home a few weeks prior, and how they’d insisted he was already part of their family and didn’t need to stand on ceremony. He’d wanted to do the thing properly, however, and had even prepared a little speech about how loved and accepted they’d always made him feel, and how he would be honored to be part of their family in a more permanent way. Molly, of course, was in floods, and Arthur stammered over his acceptance of the raven-haired wizard’s words, and did his best to formally bestow his blessing without coming apart like his wife.

As she shared other bits and pieces of news, Hermione sensed her father watching her with more than idle curiosity. She knew he was gearing up to ask her something deeper than how her work week had been, and had a vague inkling of what it might be about. True enough, after she updated them on one of George’s recent inventions, Edward shifted in his seat and fixed her with a kind but serious look.

“How’s Draco?”

While she’d mentioned her favorite wizard a handful of times already, she knew her father was asking something else. Something more.

“He’s good. Really good, actually. His first term as a staff member was hectic and crazy at times, but he truly enjoyed it. He has more confidence now than I’ve seen in a long time, and he’s taken great pride in the progress and accomplishments of his students. And they absolutely love him.” She couldn’t help the smile that spread as she thought of the stories he’d shared about his charges coming to him for advice and support.

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Jeanette was beaming, “Do you think he’ll stay on at the school next year?”

“I’m honestly not sure. It would depend entirely upon whether or not there’s a position for him. He enjoys teaching, but I don’t know that it’s what he wants to do as a career.”

“Any news of his father?” Edward asked. He had noticed during the few visits they’d enjoyed with the young man, that while he spoke warmly and openly about his mother, he seemed to avoid any mention of the man who raised him. Hermione had told them a handful of things about Draco’s upbringing and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to throttle the wizard for the things he’d subjected his son to. It was obvious the lad was dealing with a myriad of unresolved issues, understandably, and he wondered how that was coming along.

“Well,” Hermione sighed, “Harry said there have been reports from Azkaban about the declining magical strength of the inmates who were part of Voldemort’s inner circle, including Lucius. Draco mentioned it once, about a month ago, but hasn’t said anything since. I don’t think he knows how to feel about any of it. His father is most likely dying, and even though he knew Lucius was given a life sentence, and that he’d probably never see him again, he really hasn’t come to terms with what happened.”

Both Edward and Jeanette nodded solemnly, knowing full well that the “ _any of it_ ” Hermione referred to was not just the recent news of Lucius’ waning health, but all the events leading up to and following the war. It was a weighty burden to carry, and an awful lot to dig through, especially for someone so young.

“I realize he doesn’t know us very well,” Edward began after a few moments of consideration, “But I hope Draco knows we’re here for him in any way he might need. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone more removed from the situation, and we were about as removed from it as you could get.” He chuckled wryly and winked at his daughter, wanting her to understand that he was not blaming her for their sudden distance during that time.

Hermione nodded as tears prickled in the corners of her eyes. She appreciated her parents’ acceptance of Draco more than she could put into words, and truly hoped their relationship with him would continue to grow and strengthen over time. Her parents weren’t perfect – no one’s ever are – but her mother was one of the most compassionate people in the world, and possessed a near-constant desire to help and nurture those around her. Her father had the biggest heart out of anyone she’d ever known, and was unendingly patient and kind. She knew they cared deeply about the tall blonde, and was optimistic that furthering a connection between the three of them would help Draco work through some of the darkness he still carried with him.

“Now, no more serious talk,” Jeanette could tell her daughter was getting weepy and that was the last thing she wanted at the moment. It was Christmas, after all. “Tell me what the plan is for the next few days.”

That did it. Hermione gave a watery chuckle and launched into an explanation of the itinerary for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Boxing Day, and even the day after that, her excitement over all that was to come surpassing everything else.

ooOoo

Draco was on his third attempt at wrapping Hermione’s present in his study when Narcissa poked her head around the partially-open door.

“Draco, dear, what do you think about having a bit of a buffet spread for breakfast the day after Christmas? Boxing Day, I think Hermione called it?”

“That would be fine,” he nodded and flashed her a quick smile before returning his attention to the unsatisfactorily-packaged item laying on his desk.

“Do you need some help?” Narcissa noticed her son’s furrowed brow and pursed lips as she took a few steps into the room.

“I’m trying to wrap this, but it just doesn’t look like I want it to,” he huffed and waved a hand over it in exasperation. He pointed his wand at it, and the festive paper disappeared, leaving two separate objects on the gleaming wood surface. Narcissa peered thoughtfully at the carefully-chosen gifts while Draco continued to scowl at them.

“I might have something you can use,” she held up a finger, indicating she would be right back, and swept from the room, leaving Draco to plunk down in his chair with a sigh. He was very much looking forward to the holiday weekend and all the festivities that would accompany it; none more so than the mere presence of his favorite witch. He knew she didn’t put any serious stock in material things, but he wanted to give her something that would surprise and delight her. Something that would cause her eyes to light up and go wide; something that would be meaningful and memorable for years to come. He thought he’d done a spanking good job of it, too, if only he could wrap it as impressively, but no matter what color paper, or what size bow, it looked completely underwhelming.

His mother came gliding back through the doorway a moment later with something silver in her hands that sparked recollection in the back of his mind. Upon reaching his desk, she set what appeared to be a box of some sort down next to the objects of his frustration. The ornately scrolled surface and sturdy design hinted at a lengthy history and a hefty price tag, and Draco struggled to place where he’d seen it before. Narcissa filled in the blanks.

“This was my mother’s, and my grandmother’s, and so on, for more years than I can imagine. I believe it was originally intended to house small potion vials, but over time has been used for jewelry, important letters, sentimental trinkets, and even sweets. I remember my grandmother having a penchant for a particular kind of Belgian truffle, and she would hide them in here, under several concealment spells.” She laughed lightly as she remembered being shown the array of delectable chocolates as a very young child. Roughly a year later, her grandmother had passed away, and the box found a new home in her mother’s bedroom. She’d been sorely disappointed when she’d opened it only to find strands of pearls and diamond bracelets.

“It is Goblin-made, and has probably been around for several centuries,” Narcissa flipped the tiny latch on the front and gently lifted the hinged lid to reveal a crimson velvet interior. The silver was still dazzlingly shiny, and the fabric inside looked brand new, regardless of the age it might claim. She reached over and picked up the larger of the two items Draco had chosen for Hermione and placed it in the box first, where it fit perfectly. Conjuring a second piece of identical red fabric, she wrapped the second, smaller object in it, and set it on top of the first, then closed the lid with a gentle _snap_. Twirling her wand in an intricate motion, a lovely bow of green and red satin appeared with a sprig of holly tucked in the center, and affixed itself to the center of the decorative container.

“Perfect,” Draco breathed in awe and relief, feeling like it finally looked the way he imagined. He beamed at his mother and swooped in to kiss her on the cheek, “Thank you, Mother. She will love it.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” she patted his cheek fondly, “So, yes to the buffet?”

He nodded firmly, “Yes, I think they’d enjoy that. And I know both of her parents like to drink coffee in the morning instead of tea.”

“I’ll make sure Merry knows that,” Narcissa promised as she made her way back out the door, taking one last look over her shoulder at her son, who was gazing down at the present on his desk with such a blissfully happy expression, it brought tears to her eyes. Blinking quickly to clear her vision, she set her course for the kitchen, where she would double check with her Elves to make sure everything was in place for their highly-anticipated guests. Along the way, she recast the silencing charms that had been placed on every single one of the ancestral portraits hanging on the walls. One could never be too careful, after all.

ooOoo

Harry hadn’t actually told Ginny he was arriving at the Burrow on Thursday. As far as she was concerned, he was getting there after working until noon on Christmas Eve, just like her father and Percy, while Ron and George would be there sometime before dinner. Bill and Fleur had gone ahead on Wednesday, after the students had left the castle, and Charlie was supposed to show up Thursday evening. Molly had promised not to let her youngest child make any plans or go anywhere before Harry got there, and she’d made good on her word. In fact, Harry stepped through the floo shortly after ten o’clock in the morning, only to be told his globe-trotting girlfriend was still sound asleep.

“I just peeked in about five minutes ago, and she was snoring like a Giant,” Molly chuckled and nudged Harry in the ribs, “Don’t tell her I said that, though. She insists she never snores. Ha! Maybe she’ll believe it if _you_ tell her.” She winked mischievously at the bespectacled wizard who suddenly found his face to be rather warm, considering the circumstances under which he might discover whether or not Ginny snored, and even more – the fact that it was her mother insinuating such things.

In an attempt to change the subject, he glanced around the quiet but still-busy kitchen, where Molly had spelled knives to chop and spoons to stir. He sighed deeply, always happy to be back in the house he considered his second home, and caught of whiff of something that smelled absolutely divine. The kind-faced witch noticed and smiled widely.

“Have you had breakfast? I’ve just pulled a crumble out of the oven. Technically I suppose it’s a dessert, but Arthur loves it with a bit of cream on a Saturday morning,” she moved to get a bowl before he could even answer, and he knew he’d never turn down any of Molly’s delicious cooking anyway. Sinking into a chair at the familiar, scrubbed, wooden table, he felt like he was finally able to relax for the first time in a long while. He enjoyed his job wholeheartedly, but it had been a hectic and stressful few weeks. Now that it was over, he planned to savor every second of his holiday break, and a sizeable helping of still-warm blackberry cobbler as a second breakfast sounded like the perfect way to start.

He chatted with Molly as he ate, filling her in on the latest of his cases and sharing some of the more humorous moments in the office. She, in turn, updated him on her various children, though not in depth since she knew they would want to do so themselves. After mentioning that Bill and Fleur would be traveling to see the Delacour’s on Christmas Day, she paused and studied the young man seated in her kitchen for a beat or two before continuing.

“Have you spoken to your aunt and uncle at all?” Molly rarely brought up the Dursley’s, finding them to be the worst sort of people after the way they treated Harry growing up, but she knew he had reconnected with his cousin, so she was curious about their take on things after having been kept safe by the very people they’d so clearly despised.

“No, neither of them, but Dudley and I went to a pub in Soho last week, Waxy O’Connor’s,” he snorted and shook his head, “Crazy place, but the food was good and the music was terrific.”

Molly nodded, “I’m glad you’re keeping up with your cousin, dear.”

Harry shrugged, “Dudley’s alright. He’s changed since we were younger, grown up a bit and all that. He still works in the Grunnings factory, but says he doesn’t want to do that forever. He invited me to dinner with his parents during the hols, but I’m not sure…” His words trailed off as he considered this. It wasn’t that he hated his aunt and uncle anymore; he’d moved past that long ago; but he didn’t particularly like either of them and didn’t really feel like spending an evening trying to filter everything he said so as not to set Vernon off or shock Petunia in some way. He shrugged again, “I told him I’d think about it, and then asked him if he wanted to come to the New Year’s Eve party I’ve been told I’m hosting again.” He rolled his eyes and Molly laughed.

“Well, it was such a success last year, dear, what did you expect?”

He snickered in response, and at that moment, they heard the floorboards creak above their heads. Anxious green eyes met warm brown ones across the kitchen and Molly flapped her hands at him.

“Go on, be the first one she sees this morning,” she smiled knowingly and chuckled at the wide grin that spread across Harry’s face before he shot out of his seat and bounded up the stairs. Sighing to herself, remembering the days of early love she and Arthur had shared, she turned back to the veritable smorgasbord she was in the middle of preparing for the holiday weekend.

Harry, on the other hand, had sprinted up to the landing outside Ginny’s room and was now standing in front of her door feeling unaccountably nervous. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen her in over a month, or maybe it was due to the surprise he’d orchestrated less than a week from then, or maybe it was because he was the tiniest bit worried she wouldn’t be as excited to see him as he was to see her. Whatever was causing his jittery state, he was simultaneously attempting to push up his glasses and fix his hopelessly messy hair when the door swung open to reveal the subject of his musings.

Ginny was still in her pajamas, her long coppery hair slightly mussed from sleep, her eyes still drooping, and she was carrying an armful of towels and clothes, clearly on her way to the shower. Three seconds of stunned silence followed the reveal of her boyfriend on her threshold before her amber eyes widened comically and blinked rapidly, as if questioning the sight in front of her. Harry had frozen with his hands in midair, and slowly let them drop to his sides, a sheepish smile on his face. An ear-splitting squeal filled the air as Ginny flung her articles away and launched herself at him, peppering his face with kisses and gibbering with elation.

“I can’t believe you’re here! When did you get here? I’ve missed you so much! I thought you had to work?” She was a whirlwind of energy and words and it was all he could do to remain standing and hold on. He wrapped his arms snugly around her waist and returned her kisses, then buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the strawberry scent of her and basking in the pleasure of having her close again after so many weeks apart. Ginny eventually wore herself out from that sudden burst of activity and settled into him, resting in his embrace and humming contentedly.

It was how Bill found them as he padded down the hall on his way to the bathroom, dragging his hand down his face and stifling a yawn.

“Hiya, Harry,” he mumbled, nodding at the younger wizard before turning to his sister with a wry smirk, “Thanks for the wake-up call, Gin. It’s not like I’ve got an infant to interrupt my sleep on the regular or anything.”

Ginny looked a little abashed, “I’m so sorry! Did I wake Victoire?”

Bill snorted, “No, she sleeps like a log. Fleur’s still out, too. I’m the only one who woke up thinking the house was on fire.” He rolled his eyes and grinned at Harry, “At least you had a good reason to make such an inhuman sound.” He punched him lightly in the arm and continued on down the hall.

The pretty witch huffed as she grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him into her room. He sank down on the end of her bed while she scooped up her discarded towels and clothes and dumped them in a pile on her desk chair before sitting next to him and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she murmured, “I had no idea.”

“That was kind of the point,” he teased as he laced his fingers through hers, “I’m here till Monday night, so we’ve got five whole days together.”

“Yes, together with my entire family,” he could hear her eye-roll even if he couldn’t see it and let out a low laugh.

“True, but I’d rather be with you around other people than not with you at all,” he said matter-of-factly before shifting slightly and meeting her gaze which was warm and sparkling with happiness. “Plus, I’m quite sure we can manage a moment to ourselves here and there, yeah?” Her lips were pulling up in a smile as he leaned down to kiss her, this time much softer and longer than when they’d first encountered one another. She released a small sigh and melted into him and neither of them even noticed when Bill passed by on his way back to his room, quietly shutting Ginny’s door as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, so many things happening at once! I love Christmas and gift-giving is my love language, so that's why it's featured so prominently in this series ;) I'm ridiculously excited for Harry and Ginny, and I'm more than a little invested in the scenes coming up between Draco and Hermione. I hope you enjoy them all as well! Next chapter will be posted Thursday, and as always, thank you so much for reading! <3


	43. Visions of Sugarplums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve, and everyone is gathered at Grimmauld Place for an evening of festive activities.

It had been decided that Draco, Narcissa, Andromeda, and Teddy would come to Grimmauld for Christmas Eve, and that even though the real exchange of presents would take place the following day at the Manor, all the adults were going to participate in a bit of a gift swap like the one the housemates had just enjoyed at the castle. Since Hermione had been the one to suggest it, she had been peppered with questions from all sides regarding the “rules” and expectations. Draco had relayed all the ridiculous details from the exchange the previous weekend once he’d arrived at home, and both his mother and aunt were in stitches over the nonsense that had passed as acceptable offerings.

Edward and Jeanette had both engaged in that sort of thing many times, though they were a little apprehensive about coming up with something magical people might find amusing. Hermione assured them that anything would be fine; that Andromeda had a roaring sense of humor, and that Narcissa had quite a sassy streak hidden beneath her polished veneer. Everyone was very excited about it, and extremely secretive about their selected treasures leading up to the twenty-fourth. Teddy, obviously, was too little to understand such a thing, but Hermione wrapped several small toys for him to open as they played their game so he would feel included.

Hermione had decided to forego a formal dinner in lieu of an elaborate spread of hors d’oeuvres and appetizers, thinking it would allow them the chance to refill their plates throughout the night, and might help foster a more relaxed, less formal atmosphere. Not only had she orchestrated the gift exchange, but she’d also asked her father to do his traditional reading of _The Night Before Christmas_ , something he had done every year since she was born, and she thought Teddy would thoroughly enjoy it. She’d even picked up a brand new copy of the beloved story, complete with beautiful illustrations, and wrapped it as one of the toddler’s gifts. Draco had told her one of his family traditions growing up had been to roast chestnuts in the fireplace, which had delighted her to no end, and she’d burst into song with the familiar carol. Unfortunately, he’d never heard it before and thought she was making it up until she was able to play it for him on her Walkman.

The floo roared to life at exactly five o’clock, depositing first Draco, then Narcissa, then Andromeda and Teddy into the drawing room. The small boy immediately struggled to be released from his grandmother’s arms, and made a beeline for Kreacher, who was quietly standing off to one side, waiting to assist wherever needed. Having known the precocious lad would be there, the wrinkled Elf had already brought Roy downstairs, and had set up his cage on a sturdy footstool, which was the perfect height for Teddy to sit in front of and watch the antics of Hermione’s puff-mouse. In his never-ending attempts to keep the fluffy thing happy and occupied, Kreacher had put what was clearly meant to be a tiny Christmas tree in one corner of the cage, though it was really just a small evergreen twig with a red ribbon wound through the needles. Roy didn’t seem to care very much about it, but he was beside himself over the change in location and a new audience to perform for, and immediately set about hopping and humming and rolling around his paper-strewn home, much to Teddy’s delight.

After cloaks had been hung and greetings bestowed, Hermione invited everyone to fill a plate and make themselves at home. Kreacher took care of drinks, and in no time, the six adults were comfortably settled in the cozy sitting room, chatting amicably about the holidays, the parents in the group sharing funny and embarrassing stories about their children, who took it all in stride with sheepish grins and pink cheeks. After a particularly amusing tale involving a four-year-old Draco, a loyal House Elf, and a bottle of wine, the tall blonde interrupted the hilarity with good-natured chagrin.

“How was I supposed to know? The label had grapes on it!”

“Poor Pippin couldn’t even sit up straight,” Narcissa chortled daintily, “He was so intent on not letting you have any of it.”

“Yes, very protective,” Draco rolled his eyes and tried to garner help from his girlfriend, but she was in a fit of near-silent giggles next to him on the sofa, so he gave it up as a bad job and opted to go in a different direction altogether. “What say we do the gift swap now?”

“That sounds like a brilliant idea,” Edward agreed and Draco shot him a grateful look, accompanied by a dramatic eye-roll that the older man responded to with a wink and a hearty laugh.

Wiping her eyes, Hermione got up and, with a swish of her wand, floated all the wrapped parcels for the game to a small table Kreacher had placed near the hearth specifically for this purpose. She gave the instructions, answered a few questions, and then plucked a small red pouch from the mantle, which she opened and held out to Andromeda, who was sitting closest.

“Each candy has a number on it, and that’s the order we’ll go in,” she explained as the bag was passed around. As soon as everyone had a Christmas sweet in their hand, it was determined that Jeanette had the number one, and therefore could choose first.

The selection of objects this time had all clearly been boxed or bagged in an attempt to make them look like more normal gifts; none of the lumpy wrapping jobs, or ugly ribbons like the housemates had employed. It almost made the choosing more difficult, because each of them was so nice, and didn’t scream “ _I’m awful_ ” to the person eyeing their options. Jeanette settled on a square box covered with silver paper, and adorned with a glittery red bow. When she picked it up, surprise immediately registered and she fumbled for a second to get a better hold on it.

“It’s a lot heavier than it looks!” she exclaimed as she returned to her seat and began carefully tearing the wrapping off.

“Whose is that?” Hermione asked and Draco raised his hand, flashing a smirk before turning his attention back to the recipient of his gift.

“I’m not… what on Earth…” Jeanette seemed completely dumbfounded by whatever was still hidden inside the box she was now peering into, brows furrowed and hands hovering as if unsure if she wanted to actually pick it up.

“It won’t bite,” Draco teased and she tossed him a look so identical to one her daughter so often used, he barked out a laugh.

Huffing a deep breath, Jeanette plunged both hands into the box and slowly lifted them back out, now holding what appeared to be a statue of a Garden Gnome, sitting cross-legged on a rock. His large, potato-like head was topped with what looked like a dandelion, a scowl etched across his ugly little face with a single tooth protruding from his lower lip, spindly arms crossed firmly in front of his lumpy body, and his over-sized, hairy feet visible beneath his cloth-covered legs. The whole thing was no more than eight inches tall, and was incredibly realistic looking. So incredible, in fact, that Hermione couldn’t help but ask…

“It’s not a _real_ Gnome, is it? I mean, it’s not under a stasis or hasn’t been petrified, or anything?” her question was directed at Draco, but her curiously horrified gaze hadn’t left the thing in her mother’s hands. Jeanette was also looking at Draco now, almost afraid of his answer.

He couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped before responding, “Nope. No stasis, no charms or spells at all that we could figure out. The clerk at Dervish and Banges helped me check for all manner of things. Far as we can tell, it’s just a statue.”

Edward, who had been struggling not to laugh since his wife pulled the hideous thing out of the box, now let go with a hearty rumble that sent everyone else into peals of mirth. “That’s amazing, Draco,” he finally managed to gasp.

“You might want to steal it for your office. Use it as a doorstop or something,” Draco responded with a grin and the older man laughed even harder at the pleading look on Jeanette’s face at the suggestion.

Andromeda went next, followed by Draco, Hermione, Narcissa, and lastly, Edward. Teddy opened a new present in between several of the adults, who used the break to refill their plates and try to compose themselves after each round of raucous laughter. In short order, Andromeda was the proud owner of a pair of furry bear-claw slippers that growled when she walked, Draco refused to part with the gorilla alarm clock that beat its chest and roared when it went off, and Hermione declared she would hang her new artwork in her office – a Velvet Elvis depicting the King in his famous, bedazzled, white suite, bordered by an intricately scrolled, gold-painted frame. Narcissa had maintained an impressive amount of decorum for the first half of the swap, but by the time Elvis (who she actually did recognize and knew quite a bit about, much to Draco’s utter astonishment) had been unveiled, she was in fits with the rest of them. When it was her turn, she took a very long time deliberating between stealing Hermione’s gift and choosing one of the still-wrapped ones on the table. The petite brunette cocked an eyebrow and tilted the painting towards her just the tiniest bit, and Narcissa swooped in and grabbed it with undisguised glee.

“Good on you,” Jeanette, who had been the one to contribute that particular item, applauded the blonde witch, who gave a small curtsey before returning to her seat. Hermione huffed in teasing exasperation and chose another present. It was similar in size and shape to the one she’d originally had, so she thought perhaps it was another piece of art. Upon opening the box, she stared at what was indeed a second framed image, though this one seemed to have frozen her brain in a combination of denial and horror.

Contained in a garish purple framed speckled with glitter, was a picture Hermione recognized… sort of. It was one of the posters Sirius had stuck to the wall of his bedroom as a massive two-fingered salute to his parents; one of the Muggle motorcycle posters with a scantily-clad model draped over the shiny chrome vehicle. It had been shrunk to fit the frame, but the one glaring difference between what she remembered and the one currently traumatizing her, was that the face of the model was none other than her former Potions Professor.

“Oh, good Godric,” Draco choked from beside her, “Is that _Snape_?” His grey eyes were wide, his mouth gaping like a codfish, but he rallied at once and dissolved into an absolute fit of bellowing guffaws.

“I can’t… this is… who brought this?” Hermione finally managed to demand, her usually quick wit having screeched to a halt at the sight of the familiar sallow face, hooked nose, and curtain of pitch-black hair perched on top of a voluptuous figure in a bright red, barely useful bikini.

Narcissa had gasped at Draco’s question and immediately came over to inspect the item being goggled at by her son. It was, indeed, their late friend and ally’s face, in all its glorious, sneering disdain, and the sight rendered her speechless for a moment before she sputtered into a state of gasping, snorting giggles.

Andromeda, on the other hand, was sitting quite primly in her chair, her teacup raised daintily to her lips which flashed Hermione a wicked grin before forming the words, “I did.”

Hermione showed the altered image to her parents, who blinked owlishly for a few seconds and then promptly chortled with amusement. The young witch was still uncomprehending as her gaze flickered between the frame and Andromeda, who eventually took pity on the recipient of her gift and explained how she had come into possession of it.

“Harry helped me,” she admitted with a small shrug and Hermione’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “I told him I wanted something completely unexpected and mildly irreverent. It took him all of three seconds to come up with this, though it took a bit longer for him to explain it in between his bouts of wheezing giggles.” At that, Hermione could no longer hold back, fully able to envision her best friend in one of his humorous episodes, and knew he’d probably have been hoping either she or Draco would wind up with this fabulous present.

“I’ll trade you,” Draco managed to gasp out, tears coursing down his cheeks, “I need this for my quarters. Unless you want to hang it in your office like you were going to do with the Elvis?” He waggled his brows, earning himself a roll of chocolate-brown eyes, though his girlfriend was still sniggering. Wordlessly, she held the grape-colored frame out to him and he passed over the plastic gorilla, more than a little sad to part with it, but definitely feeling like he won the pot that night.

“One more gift!” Narcissa exclaimed, noticing the lone parcel on the table.

“Ah, that would be mine, I guess,” Edward grinned and went to retrieve it. “I’m going to guess it’s not another piece of art.” The large, square box was definitely not housing anything flat, and by the way he was handling it, seemed a little heavy.

“It’s not,” Narcissa replied, having been the one to contribute that particular item, and an excited glint appeared in her eyes as she watched Hermione’s father unwrap the shiny green paper.

He opened the top flap of the box, looked inside, and nodded at the elegant witch, “Very nice, thank you.” And then proceeded to close the box back up, causing everyone to complain loudly, insisting he needed to show what was in it. He grinned again and flashed a wink at his daughter, who was very used to these kinds of antics from her dad, and followed through on unveiling his treasure.

A pair of pale silver peacocks were balanced carefully in his hands, each sporting an identical opalescent sheen, and both roughly the size of grapefruits. One had its tail closed and trailing behind it, the other had its fanned out on full display. They were extremely detailed, if not a little gaudy, and stared out with beady eyes that made one uncomfortable if looked at for too long.

“Oh, those are very interesting,” Jeanette leaned towards her husband to get a better look and ran a finger over the ridge of feathers before her, only to be met with a piercing _squawk_ that almost sent her tumbling from her seat. Though the bird was perfectly still, there was no mistaking the noise had come from it.

“What on Earth…” Edward had almost dropped the pair at the jarring sound, and everyone else had been equally startled.

Andromeda cast a shrewd glance at her sister, “Are those?”

Narcissa nodded gleefully, “The very same!” And the two sisters chuckled maniacally at their own secret joke.

“Explain,” Draco demanded.

“Oh, yes,” Narcissa wiped her eyes and cleared her throat, “Those were a wedding gift from my mother-in-law.” Everyone just stared at her, dumbfounded, so she continued, “The woman never liked me, but she adored those horrible peacocks, which she knew I was terrified of. She made me promise that I would never get rid of them or harm them, and that she would know if I did. She gifted me those ridiculous statues and placed some sort of charm on them that was connected to the actual birds.” Andromeda was still laughing quietly to herself, but the other four were riveted to her story. “I was in the garden one day when one of them, the biggest, meanest one, snuck up behind me and bit me on the leg. I reacted instinctively and stunned the feathered menace. He was fine, but when I went back in the house I heard this awful noise coming from the parlor, and found it coming from them,” she pointed accusingly at the two porcelain figures. “Lucius’ mother appeared seconds later, demanding to know what I had done to her precious birds. I explained and even showed her the marks on my leg, but somehow it was my fault, and it gave her yet another reason to hate me.”

“Since the senior Malfoys still lived at the Manor, Cissa couldn’t hide the vile things, or ‘accidentally’ break one, because obviously it could just be magically repaired,” Andromeda interjected.

“By the time she passed away, I had honestly forgotten about them, as I had long since learned to steer clear of her awful pets. As I was redecorating the Manor last year, I came across them again, still in the exact same spot on the mantle. They don’t particularly like being handled, as you can see,” she gave a wry laugh as Jeanette nodded vigorously, “But the real peacocks are long gone, which means I am finally free to dispose of them.”

“My goodness,” Jeanette murmured, “I can’t imagine... it’s a shame you weren’t allowed to just simply enjoy them. They are rather handsome.”

“Would you like to trade?” Edward shifted, holding out the pair and eyeing the Gnome sitting at his wife’s feet.

“You really want this?” she held up the hideous statue.

“Oh, absolutely. I’ll put it to use the way Draco suggested, but not in my office. I need something to hold the door of my workshop open. It’s hot out there when I’m baiting new hooks!”

That settled, everyone was perfectly content with the unique treasures they were now the proud owners of, and it was decided that another round of snacks was in order before Teddy would open his last gift. The small boy had been happily occupied throughout their entire exchange, and was sitting near Roy’s cage, surrounded by his own little pile of presents. Hermione had wrapped a set of colorful wooden blocks, a fabric ball with different patterns and textures and tags all over it, two puzzles with chunky knobs that made getting the pieces in and out easy for little hands, and a trio of plastic cars with oversized wheels. Teddy was currently running the red one back and forth over the carpet and making small noises, which drew the adults’ attention

“Has he ever seen a car before?” Edward asked Andromeda.

“No, never,” the dark-haired witch contemplated her grandson’s actions.

“Funny how he seems to know exactly what one does,” Draco commented and they all nodded. At that moment, the currently-platinum-blonde toddler looked up at the group watching him and beamed at them, holding the car up in the air and making a _whooshing_ sound while flying it around. “Well, now we know Potter’s a bad influence.”

Hermione chortled and then, of course, the story of Arthur’s flying Ford Anglia was told. The Grangers had heard the abridged version years ago, but Narcissa and Andromeda were unfamiliar with the tale. Needless to say, there were several questions regarding the level of common sense the two twelve-year-olds had possessed at the time, and much good-natured groaning and sighing accompanied the adults’ responses. As the episode wound down, Teddy bounded over to the curly-haired witch and patted her on the knee.

“More?” he smiled expectantly.

“I do have one more present for you,” Hermione tapped him on the nose with her finger and he giggled while he bounced on his toes, waiting for his gift. She pulled the flat object out from beside the couch and handed it to the toddler, but didn’t let go immediately. “You have to do something for me, though.” He looked at her with wide, curious eyes. “You need to bring this to Edward. He’ll help you with it.” As she spoke, she pointed to her father, who shifted in his seat and leaned forward with a smile.

Teddy glanced between the two, then down at the gift, before grinning at her again and toddling off towards the kind-faced man. He clambered up onto the sofa in between Jeanette and Edward, and pushed the parcel into the latter’s hands. The two of them worked together to unwrap the red paper covered with white snowflakes, and eventually revealed the hardcover copy of the traditional Christmas rhyme. Teddy’s eyes grew wide as he took in the detailed drawing on the cover; snow-covered rooftops, a bright red sleigh, a team of prancing reindeer, and a jolly looking man with an overflowing bag of toys.

“Shall I read it?” Edward asked the small boy, and Teddy simply nodded, his eyes never leaving the book in front of him. And so, Hermione’s father read the classic holiday poem to all of them, though his attention was solely focused on the tiny lad who had crawled into his lap by the time they reached the second page. His deep voice was calm and soothing, and he read at a gentle pace so Teddy would have time to get a good look at the beautiful illustrations. No one said a word or even made a sound, and by the time the story ended, they were all so warm and comfortable, they probably could have fallen asleep like the children in the book.

“What a lovely story,” Andromeda said, “I remember Ted saying something about a poem about Santa Claus that he was fond of as a child, but we never had a book or anything.”

“It’s was always one of our favorite traditions,” Jeanette explained, “Edward read it every year since Hermione was born.” She turned and faced her daughter with a mildly shocked expression on her face. “He read it the last two years, too.”

It took a beat for the words to register, but once they did, Hermione returned her mother’s stunned look, “Really?”

Edward nodded, “I did. In fact, two years ago, I specifically went to the bookstore to find a copy, since I couldn’t find one anywhere in the house. I didn’t know why I thought we’d have one, or why it was so important, but I just _had_ to have that book.”

Jeanette was wiping her eyes as she nodded, “He read it after we ate dinner on Christmas Eve, and he stared at the last page for the longest time. I asked him what was the matter, and… do you remember what you said?” She turned to her husband who nodded again and cleared his throat.

“I said it felt like I had done that before. Turns out I had, many times,” he smiled at his daughter, whose own eyes were blurred with tears as she got up and moved across the room to lean down and give him a hug. When she pulled back, Teddy was watching her with a serious expression on his little face, and he reached up and patted her cheek with his hand.

“Okay, Mine?”

Narcissa and Andromeda both let out a small gasp, and Hermione gave a watery giggle as she scooped the sweet boy into her arms and gave him a squeeze, “Yes, Teddy, I’m perfectly okay. Thank you.” She kissed his cheek with a loud _muah_ , causing him to squeal and squirm to get down, aiming right for Edward’s lap, where he settled in and poked the book insistently.

“More, please!”

Edward chuckled and happily obliged, and as his rumbling baritone filled the room again, Jeanette stood to wrap her daughter in an embrace.

“I’m so glad we’re all here together,” she whispered and Hermione tightened her hold in response. As they pulled apart, the petite brunette turned to find the two other women watching her as if waiting to say something.

“Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly, “Didn’t mean to get all weepy on you.”

“No, dear, you have nothing to apologize for,” Andromeda reassured her at once, “There’s nothing wrong with getting teary after everything you’ve all been through.” Narcissa was nodding in agreement, her own eyes rather glassy, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Teddy has a new name for you, apparently,” the blonde witch said in a quiet voice, so as not to disturb the rereading of the story, “He doesn’t say very many words, but his vocabulary is steadily growing. It seems he only chooses to try out new ones based on how much he wants something. You must be very important, indeed.” She winked at Hermione, who felt herself blush at the compliment.

“It’s only because I gave him presents,” she huffed and they all chuckled at the possible truth to those words, but the precious gesture from the little boy was not dimmed, regardless of the reason behind it.

“Looks like Teddy isn’t the only one fascinated with that book,” Andromeda nodded towards the other couch where Draco had scooted over to the end closest to Edward and Teddy, and was hanging over the side of the arm so he could see the pictures, too. Both wizards had looks of rapt attention on their faces as the older man turned the pages. All four of the women glanced at the trio, uttered soft chuckles, and then decided it would be a good time to clear away the used plates, and have Kreacher set dessert up on the sideboard while they got things ready for roasting chestnuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure I've mentioned before how obsessed I am with details, and being the extremely visual person that I am, I couldn't leave out descriptions of their gifts - Snape's picture is by far my best idea yet. Lol. I love the idea of the Grangers spending time with the Malfoys; a chance for everyone to get better acquainted and to truly learn about each other's lives. Draco's relationship, particularly with Edward, will continue to be important. Thank you all so much for reading - I appreciate your company on this journey more than I can say.   
> *I posted the latest o/s to my Country Magic Series yesterday - "Done" - and would love for you to take a look!*


	44. Yuletide Cheer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve turns into Christmas Day, and the Grangers visit Malfoy Manor for the long weekend.

Their small Christmas Eve gathering went on until quite late, with everyone more than happy to continue visiting over cups tea and festive puddings. The chestnut-roasting was a big success, the Grangers having never done it before (though Edward immediately burst out in the same song his daughter originally had, causing Draco and Hermione to laugh at length). Teddy was also a first-timer and was completely enthralled with the entire process. The not-quite-round nuts had already been washed, and were sitting in a large basket by the fireplace next to two small, cast iron, flat-edged shovels. Draco sat down next to his young cousin, a safe distance from the flames, and placed one of the shovels in his lap. He picked up a handful of nuts and using his wand, scored a small cut on the outer shell of each one.

“This is so they’ll be easier to peel,” he told Teddy, who nodded solemnly.

The chestnuts were arranged in a single layer on the shovel, and then Draco helped Teddy hold it over the flames. The handle was long enough that they remained far enough away to just barely feel the heat, and the tall blonde had placed a bit of a weightless charm on the tool so Teddy’s small hands wouldn’t get tired too quickly. The toddler decided he’d rather sit in his cousin’s lap, so he climbed right in and settled himself quite nicely, and the two of them got to work toasting the holiday treat.

Hermione sat down beside them with a bowl to put the finished ones in, and followed Draco’s previous steps, filling the second shovel with scored nuts and holding them over the flames as well. The young couple engaged in quiet conversation, interspersed with exclamations and gestures from Teddy as the treats on his shovel popped and crackled in the heat. The four adults behind them in the sitting room watched the scene with knowing smiles on their faces, and several looks were exchanged between Jeanette and Narcissa as they all talked about the plans for the next day.

Eventually, enough chestnuts had been roasted for everyone to enjoy, though Teddy didn’t particularly care for the way they tasted. He did, however, find peeling the shells off to be a fascinating activity, and was happy to “help” everyone else with theirs. Once the bowl was emptied, he climbed up on the couch and into Andromeda’s lap, his eyes already drooping.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” she stroked his hair, which still matched Draco’s, and shifted him in her arms so she could stand. Hermione summoned a gift bag and put all of Teddy’s presents in it, while Draco grabbed his new, favorite piece of art, and his aunt’s shoes (since she was still wearing her bear slippers, though she silenced them to walk to the hearth). The real fire was vanished as goodbyes were said, and Andromeda stepped into the green flames first, disappearing with a _whoosh_.

“Here, I can take those,” Narcissa held her hand out for her sister’s shoes, and for the picture of Snape, “You can help Hermione tidy up.” She winked at the younger witch and thanked the Grangers again for a lovely evening, saying she was looking forward to seeing them the next day, before following Andromeda through the floo.

“What do you need us to do?” Jeanette asked Hermione, looking around the room and noticing that Kreacher had already put away whatever food had still been out. There also wasn’t a single piece of wrapping paper or ribbon to be found, and the cozy sitting area looked just as pristine as it had when they’d first gathered hours earlier.

“Honestly, nothing,” Hermione glanced about and shrugged, “I need to bring Roy up,” but as she voiced that idea, Kreacher came trotting in and levitated the cage, directing it up the stairs. “Never mind,” she chuckled.

Edward stifled a yawn, “I’m off to bed then. Almost fell asleep while you were roasting the chestnuts.”

“Me too,” Draco sniggered.

“This was lovely,” Jeanette gave her daughter a hug and then embraced Draco as well, “I’m so glad your mother and aunt were able to join us. And Teddy is just adorable.”

“Oh, they were more than happy to,” he replied, returning her hug and then extending a hand to Edward, who shook it firmly, “I can’t tell you how excited they are to have you at the Manor for the next couple of days.”

“We’re looking forward to it, son,” Edward smiled and clapped him on the back, “Not too late, you two.” He winked at Hermione and gestured for Jeanette to precede him towards the stairs, both of them calling ‘goodnight’ over their shoulders as they went.

Even before the older couple was completely out of sight, Draco pulled Hermione into his arms and rested his chin against her curls, sighing contentedly. She, in turn, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to the familiar thrum of his heartbeat. They stood like that, both watching the tiny green sparks that were left in the hearth, listening to the quite Christmas music that had been playing in the background all evening. After a second or two, Draco started swaying gently in time with the music, shifting them in a small circle. As they turned to face the glittering tree, Hermione let out a little hum and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“This is nice,” she said softly.

“I agree,” he murmured, breathing in her apricot-vanilla scent and tightening his hold on her as they continued their little dance.

“I’m about to fall asleep, though,” she giggled, and immediately followed up with a yawn.

“I suppose we should be responsible and say goodnight, so we’ll be well-rested for tomorrow,” he grumbled as he buried his face in her neck.

“Mmhmm,” she shifted so she could bring her arms up around his shoulders and trailed kisses across his cheek. He moved to face her fully, and rubbed his nose against hers before dipping down to capture her lips with his. Her fingers carded through his hair, and his arms wound snugly around her waist as they let the world around them fade away for several glorious minutes. Eventually, they broke apart, eyes heavy-lidded, and lips a little swollen, a feeling of blissful happiness swirling between them.

Draco kissed her once more, soft and quick, before stepping towards the hearth, a lopsided grin on his face. Hermione remained by the tree, her cheeks pink, and an adoring gaze pinned on him, and it took a supreme amount of effort not to swoop back over and take her in his arms again. Merlin, he loved this witch.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispered and she nodded, still smiling as he tossed the green powder into the grate and vanished in a whirl of sparks.

ooOoo

“Happy Christmas!”

The greeting was exclaimed by multiple voices as the Grangers stepped through the floo into the Manor’s foyer, arms laden with gifts and overnight bags, while their hosts rushed to welcome them and help wherever they could. Hermione had tried to prepare her parents for the grandeur and elegance of the stately home, but she knew it was just one of those things they’d have to see for themselves. As she’d expected, their wide eyes traveled over the gleaming tiled floor to the curved staircase, bedecked with garland and bows, to the massive tree standing below the open-air landing above, to the sparkling chandelier hanging over their heads.

“Oh, my,” Jeanette breathed.

“Hmm, yes,” Edward made a show of glancing around him, “This is just about the size of our entryway back home.” Everyone burst out laughing, and the mildly awkward feeling that had started to fill the space dissipated at once.

“May I bring these to your rooms, Miss?” Merry had appeared at Hermione’s side and indicated the luggage she and her parents had brought along.

“Oh, yes, thank you so much,” she set her bag on the floor in front of the tiny Elf, who was dressed in a smart grey dress, with a ruffled apron that had a wreath embroidered on the front of it, a silver “M” stitched in the center. Edward and Jeanette followed suit, thanking the beaming creature, who snapped her fingers and floated their belongings in front of her, all the way up the stairs and down the hall.

“Please, come in and make yourselves at home,” Narcissa gestured towards the parlor, where another, equally impressive tree stood next to another large fireplace, this one filled with warm, crackling flames. A large sofa, several overstuffed chairs, a tufted ottoman, and a low coffee table were arranged in front of the hearth, and snow was visibly falling outside the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the estate’s front lawn.

“This is beautiful,” Jeanette remarked and Narcissa couldn’t hide her pleased smile.

“Hermione mentioned you might like a tour later?” she asked almost hesitantly, not wanting to force her guest to do something she might not want to do.

Jeanette’s eyes, so very like her daughter’s, widened with interest, “Oh, I would love that, if it’s not too much trouble. I’m fascinated by older architecture and building designs, and Hermione said this house has been in your family for over five centuries. Is that correct?”

“And they’re off,” Draco muttered in his girlfriend’s ear, causing her to snort with amusement.

Everyone settled in and Merry was back before they could even get completely comfortable, asking if they wanted tea. Andromeda said they did, and the Elf popped away to retrieve the service, but Teddy had scrambled off the couch and went straight to the tree, where he pointed to the pile of presents gathered around it.

“Now?” he asked, his desire abundantly clear.

Andromeda chuckled and looked apologetically at the Grangers, “We let him open a few things this morning when he first woke up, but we told him we were going to wait until our friends came to do the rest. Now you’re here, so,” she raised her hands in a _‘there you have it’_ sort of way.

“We can do presents now, if he wants to,” Hermione quickly answered, glancing around to find four other heads nodding in agreement, “There’s no specific order to today.” She smiled conspiratorially at the other two witches, both of whom had helped her prepare a few activities for the next two days.

“Alright, Teddy,” Draco moved from his chair next to Hermione to the floor beside the tree, where his cousin was still rooted to the spot next to the brightly-wrapped gifts. “Will you help me?”

Teddy flashed a toothy grin and nodded vigorously and grabbed the first parcel he could reach. Draco looked at the tag and said, “This is for Hermione.” The small boy made a beeline for the petite brunette and handed her the box, dashing back to the tall blonde who already had the next delivery in his hands. It took a few minutes for them all to be distributed, but during that time, tea was poured, biscuits were nibbled on, and amicable conversation flowed. Once there were no more gifts under the tree, Teddy went straight for the chair he’d piled his own packages in and tried to climb up amidst all of them.

“Here,” Andromeda waved her wand and the presents stacked themselves neatly on the floor between her chair and her grandson’s, and he was able to hoist himself onto the cushion. He reached over and plucked the box from the top of the pile and set about tearing off the paper in tiny bits and pieces.

“It might take him awhile, so someone else can open something, too,” she chuckled, waving her hand at the group.

“Who goes first?” Draco asked, arching a brow, clearly hoping he’d be told it was him.

“Why don’t we go around the circle and each open one,” Hermione suggested and pointed to Andromeda, since she was closest to Teddy, who had already begun.

“Good plan,” Narcissa beamed, though Draco flashed her an exaggerated pout, since that meant he’d be second to last, with Hermione next to him, on Teddy’s other side.

Unlike the night before, the parcels exchanged this Christmas Day had been carefully selected, with much thought and consideration going into each one. There were some of the more traditional offerings, like holiday sweets, new gloves and scarves, and other small trinkets. The sisters exchanged new dress robes, and had also bought a new set for Hermione, but the gifts that garnered the biggest responses were the ones exchanged between the newest acquaintances in the party.

Narcissa, upon Harry’s recommendation, had picked out several lovely books about gardening for Jeanette, as well as new gloves and tools, and had also set aside some cuttings from her prized rose bushes that would travel back to Redland with the Grangers. Jeanette, having learned about Narcissa’s growing interest in cooking, bought three cookbooks authored by famous chefs, a couple of baking pans the friendly dentist swore were the best brand out there, and some gadgets she knew the elegant witch would not have used before, such as silicone oven mitts and a set of piping bags and tips for cake decorating.

Draco had gotten Edward a new fishing pole and tackle box after hearing Hermione say that he’d had both current ones since she was in primary school. He’d asked Harry to get him a Muggle sporting catalog so he could take a look at what was available, and then asked the messy-haired hero to help him order a top-of-the-line model that came with a handful of accessories he had no idea what to do with, but was sure Edward would. The older man was speechless when he unwrapped it, goggling between the shiny blue pole and the pale blonde across from him. If the bear hug he crushed Draco in was any indication of how much he liked his gift, it was definitely well-received.

The Grangers had bought Draco a small telly and DVD player for his apartment at Hogwarts, seeing as Hermione and Dean had figured out how to make electronics work in the castle. Edward had insisted, much to his wife’s dismay, on starting a movie library for the young man, complete with his own favorites including the original _Star Wars_ trilogy, the _Indiana Jones_ set, all the _James Bond_ movies with Sean Connery, and _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_. Draco was beside himself with glee over the whole thing, and couldn’t stop grinning while Hermione and her father kept spouting off ridiculous one-liners from the classic.

“It’s just a flesh wound!” Edward chortled.

“We will return with a shrubbery!” Hermione gasped.

“Please, make them stop,” Jeanette beseeched Narcissa and Andromeda, who were watching with complete bemusement.

“One, two, five!”

“Your mother is a hamster!”

“And your father smelt of elderberries!”

“Honestly, they’ll just keep going,” Jeanette sighed and slumped back into her chair while the two sisters started chuckling at the father and daughter who were now beet-faced with laughter.

Still smiling broadly, Draco moved to crouch in front of Hermione and handed her the silver box he’d made sure was at the bottom of her pile of gifts, so she’d open it last, and both she and her father immediately stopped their hilarious litany to see what it was.

“Oooh, this is beautiful,” she whispered as she traced the intricate scroll work that covered the ornate piece.

“You can thank my mother for the outside, but what’s inside, I came up with all by myself,” he said smugly and winked at her as she glanced up at him.

Tipping the lid up, Hermione found a palm-sized object wrapped in a piece of red velvet, sitting atop what looked like a leather-bound journal. She lifted the covered item first, peeling back the fabric and finding a small porcelain box that fit in the palm of her hand. It was pale blue, painted with delicate pink roses, green vines, and edged with gold detailing. It was obviously an antique and she was amazed at the artistry of the design.

“Oh, how lovely,” she breathed, her wide, chocolate eyes finding slate-grey ones again.

“Have you heard of Limoges?” Draco asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Riotous curls bounced as she nodded, “Oh, yes, I’ve seen them in several stores before, and my grandmother used to have a small collection of them. None that were of any real value, just designs that caught her eye, like a picnic basket, and a family of ducks, those sorts of things.” She looked more closely at the box in her hand, “But this is an heirloom of some sort, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes,” Draco chuckled, knowing his brilliant witch would start connecting the dots immediately, so he forged ahead to tell her the story, “This particular box once belonged to King Louis XV of France.” He paused and enjoyed the way his girlfriend’s eyes grew round as saucers at that pronouncement.

“No way,” she whispered.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, “He gifted it to a friend of his, a man by the name of Nicolas Granger.” He let that sink in for a second or two before continuing, holding back another laugh at the perfect “O” her lips had formed. “Nicolas Granger was a physician by trade, but also an experienced traveler back in those days. During his acquaintance with the King, he was sent on expeditions to Crete, Egypt, Cyprus, and Syria, among others. He took extensive notes, and his journey to Egypt wound up becoming an actual published work.” Draco gestured to the book that was still nestled within the crimson-lined box. The embossed title had been greatly worn down over the years, but the words “ _Journey_ ,” “ _Egypt_ ,” and “ _1730_ ,” could still be made out.

“This… this is his book? His findings from his trip to Egypt?” Hermione couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around it.

“Yes. And while I haven’t been able to confirm it one hundred percent yet, from what I have uncovered, I’m fairly certain he is a far-reaching ancestor of yours.” Draco turned his attention to the Grangers who were watching the scene with looks of intrigue, “Am I correct in thinking you have family in the Dijon area?”

Edward nodded, “Oh, absolutely. I’ve still got distant cousins over there, but my grandparents spoke often of their upbringing, and how they lived so close to the Palace of Burgundy.”

Hermione was still gobsmacked, “So he knew… and the King gave… and we’re related…”

“I thought you might like to start your very own mini museum,” Draco leaned in closer, his eyes dancing with mirth at the reaction he’d garnered with his gift.

“My own mini museum,” she whispered, her face splitting into a radiant smile for a single heartbeat before she crashed her lips into his. She pulled back just as quickly, fully aware of their audience, and now blushing furiously.

“There is one more component to your gift,” the tall blonde tilted his chin towards the gift still in her lap, “Though it’s not connected to the other pieces. Open the little box.”

Hermione followed his instructions, and inside the porcelain work of art, she found a necklace resting on a piece of pale pink silk. With slightly trembling fingers, she picked up the delicate gold chain and her breath caught when she saw the pendant hanging from it; a tiny gold flower with a curved stem and leaves. The petals were inlaid with rubies, and the center of the bloom held a diamond. The entire charm no more than an inch in height, but exquisitely crafted and easily recognizable as a Gerbera Daisy, which were her favorite. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought and time and effort she knew had gone into his whole gift and she flung her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and willing the sob climbing up her throat to stay put.

Draco, who was still balanced on one knee in front of her chair, almost fell over at the force of her embrace, but steadied himself at once with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her, returning the hug.

“Does this mean you like it?” he teased, pressing a kiss to her curls.

She pulled back, red-eyed and pink-cheeked, but positively beaming and the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. She nodded and took a steadying breath while blinking furiously at the ceiling. Once she composed herself, she held the necklace out to him and asked him to put it on her, which he did at once.

The adults in the room looked on with knowing smiles and wistful sighs, each of them happier than they could express for the young couple in their midst. As was to be expected, Teddy’s curious nature could only be waylaid for so long and the energetic toddler walked right up to them, stopping only when his feet hit Draco’s leg, and placed a chubby hand on the older wizard’s shoulder.

“Okay, Ake?” The earliest version of his cousin’s name had so far stuck, causing everyone to laugh lightly, though the obvious concern in the little boy’s eyes was thoroughly endearing.

“Yes, Teddy, we’re all okay,” Draco reassured him and pulled him in with the arm he’d released from around Hermione. The lad turned his bright eyes on the petite brunette, who sniffed one more time and smiled at him.

“Want to help me, Teddy?” Hermione asked, earning herself an enthusiastic nod and a wide grin. “You can give Draco his present for me,” her own eyes glinting impishly.

“You already gave me a gift,” Draco’s brow furrowed as he gestured back towards his chair where his collection of unwrapped items, including a very nice quarter-zip, cashmere-wool blend jumper in steel blue sat, a gift from the witch in front of him. She’d also given him a coffee-table book about the Muggle sport of football, which he’d heard about from both Harry and Dean, but still had yet to see in person.

“Did you really think that was all I was giving you? A book and a jumper?” she snorted indelicately and pointed over to the tree that had previously been divested of all parcels. A lone box, wrapped in green paper and tied with a red and white ribbon, sat under the lowest branches.

“That wasn’t there before,” the pale blonde insisted, his eyes wide.

“Teddy, can you go get that?” Hermione gently turned him towards the tree and he scampered off immediately, returning just as fast and thrusting the box at Draco so forcefully, the older wizard lost his balance and wound up on his backside a few inches from where he’d started. His tiny counterpart found that to be hilarious, and his contagious giggle set all the adults off, too.

“Alright then, help me out,” Draco hoisted Teddy into his lap and in mere seconds the paper was tossed aside and the lid of the box lifted. Folding back the tissue paper, an article of clothing was revealed, and he held it up to get a better look at it. It was a red, short-sleeved shirt with a white collar and white edging around the sleeves. The word “Sharp” was splayed across the front in white, and a gold and white badge of some sort sat above the logo on the top left. Turning it over, a large number seven took up much of the back, along with the name “Beckham” arced above it. Cocking a brow, he looked to Hermione for an explanation.

“It’s a football jersey,” she explained, wringing her hands with nervous energy, “Beckham is one of the best-known players. He’s one of dad’s favorites.” Hermione jerked her head towards Edward, who was grinning and nodding in agreement.

“Well, that’s cool,” said Draco appreciatively, now understanding the reason for the book a little bit better.

“Oh, but there’s more,” the curly-haired witch announced smugly. Leaning down, she swiped the tissue out of the box, revealing an envelope that had been taped to the bottom, his name written clearly on the front. Reaching tentatively for it, and thinking he might have an idea of what it contained, but not wanting to get his hopes up, he pulled it off and opened it up. As he had anticipated, two tickets were inside. Tickets to the semi-final in April.

“What… how… but this…” now it was time for Draco to struggle with coherent speech as he tried to comprehend what exactly this gift entailed. Taking a guess at where his mind had immediately gone, Hermione helped him out.

“I’ve already gotten permission from Kingsley for you to go, though you’ll be taking Harry with you, not me,” she smirked at him and couldn’t help sniggering at the dumbfounded look on his handsome face. “He’s considering it a furthering of your education and integration into the Muggle world,” she chortled.

“This is… wow… this is amazing, Hermione,” he shifted his gift to the side and popped up on his knees to kiss her chastely, hoping she saw the depth of his appreciation in his eyes as he pulled back. From the blush on her cheeks, he thought she did and made a mental note to show her just how much he liked her gift more thoroughly, later on when they were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings on this muggy and foggy Monday (at least here in my corner of the world)! I'm ready for Fall to officially make an appearance - none of my summer clothes inspire me anymore, but the thought of wearing a sweater in this heat makes my skin itch. I hope this update finds each of you, my wonderful readers, well and hanging in there amidst the continued craziness. I LOVE Christmas and presents and all the traditions, and tried to cram as many of my favorites into these few chapters as possible. Of course, Draco would be so creative and thoughtful about Hermione's gif <3 Thanks so much for reading and sharing your thoughts! I truly appreciate each one of you :)


	45. Decking the Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday fun continues at the Manor, Hermione introduces her hosts to a Muggle tradition, and Harry has a quiet moment with Ginny.

The rest of the holiday weekend was a blur of festive activities, board games, family time, and far too much wonderful food. Narcissa had taken Jeanette on her aforementioned tour shortly after gifts had all been opened on Christmas Day, and the four-course dinner they enjoyed later that evening left them all completely stuffed and struggling to stay awake. Hermione’s parents headed upstairs to go unpack, while Andromeda drew a bath for Teddy and Narcissa drifted off to the kitchen to instruct the Elves on where dessert would be served. That left the young couple to their own devices for a moment, during which they were more than happy to curl up together in a cushioned window seat overlooking the back garden. Even though it was well past sunset, the lights from inside the Manor cast a soft glow on the snow-covered grounds outside, and their glittering reflection looked like diamonds or stars had been scattered about. Sighing contentedly, Hermione snuggled further into Draco’s shoulder, his arm draped around her, holding her close.

“Today has been lovely,” she hummed and felt him nod in agreement.

“That it has,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. After a beat or two he asked, “Tell me honestly, did you like your gift?”

She shifted so she could meet his gaze straight-on and was surprised to see actual worry in his pewter stare.

“Yes! Oh, Draco, it was amazing – all of it was. How could you doubt that?”

He shrugged, but his face had taken on a much more confident expression at her insistence, “I thought you would, but then, you know, I wasn’t sure it was what you were expecting or…” He let his words trail off, unsure of how to fully convey his nervousness over her present.

“It definitely was not anything I was expecting, but it’s incredible. No one has ever put so much thought into a gift for me. You’ve spoiled me for anyone else’s attempts now.” As she spoke, she moved around so she was facing him in the alcove, their opposite shoulders almost touching. “You are truly the sweetest wizard, Draco Malfoy, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your secret,” she brushed her nose against his and pressed her lips to his in a whisper of a kiss.

“Only for you,” he breathed as she pulled back, but he followed her and captured her mouth again, this time more insistently. His hand caressed her back, then her arm, then her face, before he sunk his fingers into her curls. Her own hand had traveled up his chest and now clutched the front of his jumper tightly, keeping him in place, not that he had any intention of going anywhere. After several blissful minutes, a tiny voice broke through the muddled fog they found themselves in, as Merry had appeared to call them for pudding. The Elf made her announcement and disappeared with a _pop_ , but not before they both spied the grin on her little face.

Dessert was set up in the library, where yet another gorgeous tree stood sentinel beside a roaring fire. A sizeable round table had been set up with six cushioned chairs in the center of the impressive space, and a cart with full tea service and a variety of biscuits, tarts, custards, and mini cakes had been assembled. On the table itself, a familiar game had been set up.

“Oooh, I haven’t played Scrabble in years,” Jeanette exclaimed delightedly.

“Me either,” Edward admitted, “Shame, I didn’t bring my pocket dictionary.” Everyone chuckled, but Draco waved his wand and in the next instant, a book was floating towards them from one of the shelves. It hovered in front of the older man, who looked at the cover and let out a hearty laugh.

“Well, that solves that, then,” he grinned as he plucked the hardcover edition of Webster’s from the air and set it next to the seat he’d claimed for himself.

Plates were filled, tea was served, and a few rules were established among the unique group, one of which was that both Muggle and magical words could be used, as long as everyone accepted the definition given. A charm was also placed on the board to help prevent anyone from trying to trick the others; the tiles placed down would glow red if the letters used did not actually form a real word.

The first round was very polite, with everyone on their best behavior, and Andromeda racking up the most points by the end. But by half-way through the second round, when Draco tried to convince everyone that “ _occlumencing_ ” was the verb form of the mind-invading technique, all bets were off.

“It is not!” Hermione declared, pointing vehemently at the tiles that were emitting a red light, “The board doesn’t recognize it either!”

“The board isn’t familiar with Latin terms,” he scoffed, but Narcissa merely pointed to her most recent contribution of “ _veritas_ ,” thus silencing his argument. Grumbling intelligibly, he removed his tiles and scowled at the letters before him before creating the word “ _clueing_ ,” instead.

Round and round they went as the fire continued to crackle, and snow began to fall again. Eventually, after Jeanette trounced them all with the construction of “Quidditch,” “waffle,” and “zipper,” they decided to call it a night. Hugs were given and many repeated thanks and murmurs of appreciation regarding the gifts they’d all exchanged earlier were had as they reached the top of the stairs and headed off in different directions. Ever the gentleman, Draco walked Hermione to her room which was next door to her parents, and down the hall from his own.

As he strolled down the carpeted corridor, he basked in the warm, comforting feeling that had surrounded him all day. Having Hermione there had made this the best Christmas he’d ever experienced, and the fact that Edward and Jeanette were there as well had only added to it. He couldn’t remember the last time the Manor had felt so inviting; so filled with joy. His mother had worked wonders over the past year, redecorating and erasing the dark memories that lurked in so many corners, and having Teddy and Andromeda there greatly added to the improved atmosphere. However, today had just felt right in ways he couldn’t even fully identify, and he was immensely grateful for the peace and happiness that engulfed him, and wondered if it could always be like this.

ooOoo

On Boxing Day, which is solely a Muggle holiday, Hermione had decided a bit of friendly competition might be fun. She’d written to Narcissa weeks before about her idea, and then had even popped through the floo to show her and Andromeda exactly what she’d been trying to describe on paper. The two sisters had been more than a little excited about it, and insisted on practicing with the sample the younger witch had brought along.

After a veritable feast had been laid out for them as a breakfast buffet, the party of six adults and one rambunctious toddler were enjoying each other’s company around the table, while coffee was refilled and last bites were eaten. During a lull in the conversation, after Teddy had displayed his impressive ability for getting raspberry preserves absolutely everywhere, Hermione filled them all in on her plans for the day.

“Gingerbread houses?” Draco looked bemused.

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling, “You’ve had gingerbread before, right?”

“Yes, but why would I build a house with it? Wouldn’t that take way too much time and… and gingerbread?”

Hermione giggled, “Not full-sized houses, Draco, just little, cake-sized ones.”

He blinked owlishly at her and glanced at the adults around the table, all of whom were clearly fighting grins of their own and seemed to be much more knowledgeable about this particular topic. His gaze landed on his mother whose blue eyes were sparkling with mirth.

“You know what she’s talking about?” he asked, more than a little surprised.

“Yes, dear,” Narcissa nodded primly, “Now, I wasn’t familiar with the holiday tradition previously, but Hermione explained it all and even showed us a sample.” She looked to Andromeda for confirmation, and the dark-haired witch agreed wholeheartedly.

“Well, then, I’ll just be the only one at a disadvantage,” he sighed dramatically, earning himself a poke in the ribs which made him yelp and jump away from his girlfriend who was smirking.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be on your own,” Hermione assured him.

“Oh, good, will you be there to help me?”

“Nope, but someone else will,” she grinned mischievously and pushed back her seat, clearly ready to head off to wherever her grand scheme was to unfold.

In short order, they all made their way to the kitchen, where a massive wooden butcher block took up a majority of the space. A handful of Elves were cleaning up from breakfast and greeted them with bows and curtseys before returning to their tasks. Stools had been placed around the island, and Teddy’s high chair had been brought down so he could be in the middle of all the action.

Draco's eyes widened as he took in the sight. Arranged on the scrubbed surface were stacks of brown squares and triangles, bowls of something white, and an assortment of Christmas candy that rivaled Honeyduke’s, not to mention an array of spatulas, tiny knives, and a pile of what looked like fabric cones with metal ends.

“Right then,” Hermione beamed at everyone, “Every year growing up, my parents and I would have a bit of a competition. Each of us would assemble and decorate our own gingerbread house, and we would ask our neighbors to come over for tea and be the judges after we were done. I thought it would be loads of fun to do something similar today.” Her wide chocolate eyes searched their faces eagerly, and everyone responded positively.

“So, since this is new to you,” she gestured to Draco, Narcissa, and Andromeda, “We decided it would only be fair to pair you with one of us.” She indicated herself and her parents.

“And I insisted the men would come out victorious,” Edward announced, moving around the workstation to stand beside Draco, and placing fisted hands on his hips in a bit of a superhero pose. The younger man caught on at once and mimicked his stance, nodding firmly.

“Of course,” he sniffed with superiority.

“Good, you keep thinking that, love,” Hermione patted him on the arm and made her way around the island to stand by Narcissa, while at the same time, Jeanette joined Andromeda at the other end. With a wave of her wand, a fully assembled and decorated example floated towards them from the pantry and settled carefully as the centerpiece. Studying it carefully, Draco now understood that the brown shapes were the walls and roofs, and that everything else was meant to embellish the structure. He immediately wondered if the simple four-walled, sloped-roof style was the only thing they could construct, or if other options were possible.

“A quick demonstration of the piping bags,” Jeanette spoke up as she picked up one of the funny looking cones. Scooping a large dollop of the white stuff – that turned out to be icing – into the bag, she then twisted it until it was clear the contents had been pushed towards the metal point at the end. She grabbed one of the “walls” and drew a few lines and squiggles on it, showing them how the icing would get from the bag to the baked goods. Narcissa and Andromeda had seen it once before, when Hermione had paid them a visit, but Draco was fascinated by the whole thing.

Since there weren’t really any rules, aside from not using magic to hold the houses together, a loose time limit was given and the competition began. Partners held whispered conversations about where to start and what they wanted to include in their design, aprons were donned, and supplies collected. In a very short amount of time, the entire surface of the sizable block was covered with frosting, sprinkles, cookie crumbs, and random candies. Teddy had been kept happily occupied with his very own set of gingerbread shapes and a miniature piping bag that had been charmed to make little dots of icing, so he could then stick a peppermint or an M&M to it. Narcissa and Andromeda had been enthralled with the assortment of Muggle candies Hermione had brought along and made sure to try each one multiple times as the morning wore on.

At one point, Hermione glanced around the kitchen and wished, not for the first time that weekend, that she had a camera with her. At one end of the work surface, her mother and Andromeda were perched on stools and chatting quietly while decorating something that looked like tiny Christmas trees with icing and edible pearls. Draco and her father were hunkered down at eye level, peering at their creation with very serious expressions on their faces and muttering to one another about the placement of the next piece. Beside her, Narcissa was humming to herself while creating a scalloped design on the roof of their cozy little house with her piping bag. Her heart swelled at the sight of all these people she loved so dearly gathered together and a lump formed in her throat.

Thankfully, before her emotions could get the best of her, Merry came around the corner and announced that lunch would be ready in half an hour.

“Good Godric, is it that time already?” Andromeda started and looked at the clock above the cast iron stove that did indeed say it was well past noon.

“So we’ve got thirty minutes to finish?” Draco asked and Hermione nodded. He flashed a look at Edward and the two of them picked up their pace noticeably.

When Merry returned to bid them to follow her back up to the dining room, Narcissa requested her help with something else first.

“Wait, we need you to declare the winner, Merry,” the elegant witch explained.

The tiny creature’s eyes went wide as she surveyed the giant mess covering the entirety of the butcher block, but Hermione clarified.

“Over here,” she gestured to a low counter across the way where the three confectionary masterpieces, each on its own platter, had been moved for proper viewing. Merry approached cautiously, peering at each one with intense curiosity. Andromeda waved her wand and the plates began to turn ever so slowly, so as to showcase all sides of the finished products.

Hermione and Narcissa had created what one might consider to be the fairytale version of a gingerbread house, complete with a candy walkway, gumdrop garden, sugar sprinkles on every line of icing, and even a happy pair of gingerbread people standing outside the front door.

“This is very nice,” Merry gestured to their artwork and nodded emphatically before moving on to the next one.

Jeanette and Andromeda had gone with more of a Swiss chalet design, the edges all trimmed with frosting icicles, a chimney puffing candy floss “smoke,” and peppermint stick “skis” propped beside the door. The yard around the little house was dotted with decorated trees and gumdrop “snowmen.”

“Oh, I is liking this one very much,” Merry nodded again and smiled at the pair who’d created it, then turned her attention to the third entry and froze, her eyes going wide again.

Edward and Draco had decided to forego any semblance of a traditional house, and instead put together what was unmistakably a section of a castle. The center square was double-walled and left uncovered, clearly meant to be a courtyard, and even contained a large Christmas tree in the center. On either side of the enclosure stood tall, square towers, topped with carved-out battlements. White icing “snow” covered all the edges and was piled up around the base, and there was even a drawbridge being lowered by licorice strings. Scattered throughout the scene were gumdrops topped with M&Ms some placed in the courtyard, some outside the walls, and even a few up in the towers.

“What are those?” Hermione asked.

“Soldiers, of course,” Edward smirked and pointed to one of the candy “men” that was standing before the drawbridge on the other side of a blue sugar moat, “The green and yellow ones are invading the castle, while the red and blue are fending them off.”

“They’ve even got a catapult,” Draco interjected excitedly, indicating a cookie structure at the corner of the platter, surrounded by “soldiers” and holding a boulder that seemed to be made from crushed peppermints glued together with frosting. Meeting his girlfriend’s eyes, he grinned broadly and she couldn’t help but smile in return.

Merry was still studying the boys’ incredibly creative entry and when she stepped back, she looked between the three teams with more than a little apprehension. Her oversized eyes flickered between her employers and her guests with increasing worry and when she started wringing her tiny hands, Hermione stepped in to help her out.

“It’s okay, Merry, we all know Draco and my dad won,” she rolled her eyes and huffed with theatrical exasperation, causing the three other women to chuckle, the two men to whoop with glee, and the magical creature to sigh with relief.

“Thank you, Miss, I is not wanting to upset anyone, but I is thinking that this,” she pointed to the castle, “is most impressive.” Her ears flapped rapidly as she nodded her head to emphasize her point. She then beamed up at Draco, clearly pleased to be able to tell her young master that he had won.

“Thank you, Merry,” Draco cut an exaggerated bow, “I appreciate your eye for superior workmanship.”

“Well, I isn’t knowing anything about that, Master Draco, but I is very proud of you,” she patted his arm and then turned to the rest of the group. “Lunch is served in the family dining room, if you please,” and gestured for them to make their way in that direction.

“Oh, but we should clean up,” Jeanette turned to look at the disastrous workspace they’d stepped away from, but before she could say anything else, Merry snapped her fingers and every speck of sugar, every drop of icing, disappeared, leaving only a gleaming wooden surface behind. The Elf then floated the three platters onto the island, where she promised they would be proudly displayed for the rest of the holiday week.

ooOoo

Harry was enjoying a rare quiet moment at the Burrow late in the afternoon on Boxing Day. Ron and George had needed to pop back into the city to take a shipment at the shop, Bill, Fleur, and Victoire were in France with Fleur’s family, Charlie had made plans to meet some of his friends at a pub in London, Percy was in his room working on the latest report he’d brought home with him, and Arthur and Molly were relaxing in the sitting room, tuned into their favorite Wizarding Wireless program.

This left the Chosen One with the opportunity to fix two steaming cups of tea and drag his girlfriend outside, where he’d spread a wool blanket on the snow-covered ground, and had cast multiple drying and warming charms to keep them comfortable. The spot he’d chosen was a favorite of theirs, right under a small apple tree that had somehow sprouted up a good two hundred yards from the edge of the orchard. It was at the top of a slight hill, and afforded them a lovely view of the village in the distance.

“This is brilliant,” Ginny admitted, once she’d gotten past her protests against leaving the warmth and comfort of the Burrow’s kitchen. She was still bundled in several layers of socks and jumpers, but seemed perfectly content as she blew the steam off her still full mug.

“Well, what can I say,” Harry snarked and nudged her with his shoulder.

“Yes, yes, you’re a genius,” Ginny snorted, but then she turned to face him and whatever smart retort he’d been prepared to make was lost as her warm brown eyes met his emerald green pair.

They gazed at one another for several moments, simply enjoying the fact that they _could_ , after weeks and weeks apart, and found themselves re-memorizing the features they had grown to love and were so familiar with. Ginny’s hair glinted in the slowly setting sun, her cheeks were tinged pink with cold, and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose were more pronounced now that summer was long gone and her slight tan had faded. Harry could have drawn her likeness in his sleep, and yet he felt as if he’d never clearly seen her before. She was beautiful, and she was his.

That thought caused his heart to thunder like a stampeding Hippogriff as he realized that in just two days he would be asking her to marry him. While he’d known Arthur and Molly would keep his plans a secret, he’d still been very relieved at how completely normal they’d acted throughout the entire holiday. He’d told Hermione the details of his proposal, but he’d only told Ron he would be doing it after Christmas, and begged his red-headed best friend not to let on that anything was brewing. Ron had promised, and had so far kept his word, though he’d shot Harry a few covert glances at various times when Ginny was nearby, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face.

Harry set his almost-empty mug down and shifted so he was turned to face her more fully. He brought his hands up, cupping her face, and smiled softly before bringing his lips to hers. His fingers sank into her strawberry-scented hair and he angled his head to deepen the kiss as Ginny sighed and melted into him. She was still clutching her mug in one hand, but had brought her other up to card her fingers through his always-messy hair, bringing it to rest on the back of his neck. They stayed like that, fingers trailing, tongues dancing, and steam rising from between them as the sun made its way below the tree line and the bitter cold began to seep through the magical barrier around them.

Reluctantly, Harry pulled away, still caressing her cheek while she leaned into his touch, “We should go in. I think my backside is starting to freeze.”

Ginny sniggered and kissed him one more time before hopping up and holding out her hand, which he happily accepted and hoisted himself off the blanket. With a flick of his wand, the charms were gone, the blanket folded, and they began a leisurely stroll back to the house, where Ginny promised to make sure his backside was sufficiently warmed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little fun with the Malfoys and Grangers :) I love decorating gingerbread houses - it's something we've done with our kiddos since they were young and we still try to squeeze it in during the holidays. The next chapter will bring about the little chat we've all been waiting for between Hermione and Draco, and shortly after that we'll see Harry's plan unfold. (Excited squealing!)  
> I posted a new Country Magic fic that features Theo and Luna, and it's set within this series, taking place the summer between their Eighth Year and the start of everyone's venture into the "real" world. Would love for you to check it out!! Thanks so much for reading and sticking with me on here - I hope everyone's week has gone well and each day is better than the one before! <3


	46. Important Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday weekend comes to a close, and Draco and Hermione have a long-anticipated chat.

As the twenty-sixth came to a close, the occupants of Malfoy Manor found themselves once again stuffed to the gills after a sumptuous dinner, barely able to roll themselves out of the dining room. Hermione and Draco had spent the afternoon introducing the other four to several different games. The Grangers were familiar with Skip-Bo, which Narcissa and Andromeda caught on quickly to and both enjoyed immensely. In turn, the magical folk explained the rules of Exploding Snap to the Muggle couple, who, after getting over the initial shock that came with an actual explosion, played multiple rounds with great fervor. The last game to be brought out was Candy Land, a game Hermione had loved as a child, and one she thought Teddy would like. When the toddler woke from his nap and joined them in the parlor, his attention was immediately drawn to the brightly-colored board and plastic pieces. Though the game typically only allowed for four players, Draco duplicated the markers and spelled them to be different colors than the original pieces so everyone could play.

Gathered around the coffee table, they played the simple game three times in a row, with Teddy “helping” his partner win. The first time, it was Draco; the second, Hermione; and to everyone’s great surprise, the third game he insisted on sitting with Edward, who was obviously pleased to be chosen. Though the little boy was very friendly and not afraid of new people by any means, he still typically chose to stick close to those he was most familiar with. Apparently Edward had made quite an impression with his reading of the Christmas story, and was now considered a comfortable option for the tiny lad.

Dinner had mostly been the handiwork of the talented Elves, but Jeanette had insisted on making one of her favorite traditional holiday dishes for everyone, since it was the Granger’s last night there. She and Narcissa spent several hours hidden away in the kitchen, and when supper time arrived, proudly presented the rest of the party with a steaming pan of _Gratin Dauphinois_ (potatoes au gratin, if one does not speak French). Though the rich, cheesy casserole is fairly common, Jeanette’s version included hearty bits of thick bacon, fresh mushrooms, and scallions.

Hermione had forgotten how much she loved that particular comfort food and had to stop herself after two and a half servings. Draco, however, had no such reservations and ate at least four.

“This is delicious,” Andromeda complimented the chefs at the table and everyone echoed her sentiment.

“Thank you,” Jeanette beamed, “It’s been a favorite of Edward’s since we were first married.”

“In case you couldn’t tell,” Edward joked, patting his stocky middle and chuckling.

“I can’t take all the credit, though,” the brunette woman continued, “Narcissa did most of the work.”

The Malfoy matriarch smiled demurely and gave a light shrug, “Honestly, all I did was cook the bacon.”

“And slice half the potatoes, and saute the mushrooms, and make the sauce,” Jeanette insisted, “I just helped get it all into the pan.”

“You’ll make it again, right?” Draco asked as he brought another forkful to his mouth, earning another round of laughter from everyone else.

“Yes, dear,” Narcissa winked at him. “Speaking of doing something again, we would love to have you come stay with us another time, whenever your schedules allow,” she looked between the Grangers with an eager smile on her face.

“Oh, we would enjoy that very much,” Jeanette replied immediately, and Edward nodded along. “We’ll just have to see when the next time is that we can take a bit of a break; make sure everyone’s schedules line up.” She glanced at Hermione and Draco, who were also nodding enthusiastically.

“Perhaps the Easter hols?” Hermione mused, “Or in the summer, once term ends?” She caught Draco’s eye as she said it and he shrugged and quirked a brow in a ‘ _that could work’_ sort of way.

With promises to figure out all the details in the months to come, the Grangers took their leave to go pack their bags, since they would be leaving after breakfast the next morning. Andromeda bustled off to get Teddy in the bath, and Narcissa drifted away to see to a few household tasks before calling it a night. Draco and Hermione found themselves in his “mini museum,” settled comfortably in squashy, cushioned armchairs, facing a roaring fire, with steaming mugs of tea nestled in their hands. They had been talking about the events of the past few days, and how pleased they were with how it all went, when Draco turned rather quiet, his pewter gaze fixed intently on the crackling flames. After a minute or so, he spoke.

“I’ve kept my promise, you know,” his eyes flickered over to the pretty witch nearby, whose sparkling stare now turned to him, “My promise to figure out what’s been going on in my head with regards to us… to our… to the physical aspect of our relationship.” Hermione’s expression was open and understanding; he knew she wouldn’t push him, but he really had been mulling it over and he wanted to have this conversation, as awkward as it might be.

He looked back at the hearth, took a sip of tea, fidgeted with the cup in his lap for a second before placing it on the table between them and heaving a deep sigh. Shifting in his seat so he could face her more fully, he gathered up whatever courage he could find and decided to just jump right in.

“As I’m sure you’re well aware, most Pureblood families maintain a very traditional mindset when it comes to ideas about proper etiquette, courting, marriage, and just about everything else,” he paused, allowing his rigid posture to relax slightly while Hermione nodded. “From as far back as I can recall, probably around the age of six of seven, my parents regularly instructed me in the expectations and responsibilities being a Pureblood entailed, and even more specifically, that being a _Malfoy_ entailed.” He couldn’t stop the frown that furrowed his brow, nor the downturn of his lips, but he continued, “At first, it was simple things such as offering my arm to a witch, or pulling out a chair for her at the table. Later on, the process of formal courtship was explained: how long a betrothal should last, how a contract should be drawn up, how public or private certain information should be. It’s an endless list, honestly.”  
  
“Did they think you would remember all of this by the time you actually needed to put it into practice?” Hermione wondered at the necessity of telling a young child these things, a vision of ten year old Draco sitting at the table while his father read a twelve-foot scroll of rules. She shook her head in bemusement.  
  
“Well, it’s bound to sink in when it gets repeated at least twice a year,” he smirked and her eyes widened. “Usually in January, and then again around my birthday, I would be subjected to another lecture. My father focused mainly on finding an advantageous match, meaning a wealthy family who held a good deal of power and sway in society. My mother spoke more about manners and customs, and in later years, she even started mentioning love and respect and building a strong relationship, though my father had no idea she spoke of those things.” Draco paused and considered that for a moment and huffed a low laugh to himself, “It’s almost as if she knew things were going to change drastically in the years to come and that a marriage based on title and money might not be in my future.”  
  
He glanced up to find Hermione smiling at him softly and was thankful, for the thousandth time it felt like, for the way their paths had crossed and the fates that had led them here. He lost himself in her chocolate gaze for a heartbeat or two before clearing his throat and forging ahead, knowing they hadn’t even begun to broach the heart of the matter.  
  
“My mother told me, as often as opportunity allowed, that a true gentleman would never act dishonorably, would never place himself in questionable circumstances, and above all else, would never put a witch in a compromising position. To her, this meant not being alone for extended periods of time, or being behind closed doors, those sorts of things. She insisted that if I truly cared for a witch, then I would honor her in this way and not allow either of us to cross a line we couldn’t come back from.” His cheeks flushed slightly as he considered how old-fashioned it all sounded, yet he couldn’t bring himself to disagree with her logic. He met Hermione’s adoring stare with a pleading expression, “This is going to sound mental, but every time we’re alone, like when we say goodnight in the Room, I hear her voice in my head and I feel like she would be so disappointed in me if I just tossed her instruction aside and did whatever I wanted.” Draco heaved another great sigh and forced himself to say the next bit, “I learned, during the months I was forced to serve under Voldemort, that for all my father’s long-winded lectures, he didn’t exactly toe the line himself.”

Hermione’s brows arched in questioning surprise and she noted the deep scowl that creased the pale blonde’s forehead as he glared at a spot on the rug between them. While she had expected Draco’s upbringing to have been deeply entrenched in conservative customs, she hadn’t even considered that Lucius would have played a different role in his son’s struggle with this particular topic.

Draco gripped the arm of his chair in an attempt to rein in his anger and tried to word the next part as politely as possible, “My parents had an arranged marriage, everyone knows that. What most don’t know, however, is that my father was… involved… with someone else before he and my mother were wed.” He forced himself to look Hermione in the eye as he continued, “Bellatrix. My father was in a sordid relationship with Bellatrix that began while they were still at school and continued for over a year after they both finished, during the time he was betrothed to my mother.”

Now Hermione’s eyes were round as saucers as her mind whirred to put the pieces together and her heart ached for how Narcissa must have felt to find out that her own sister had done such a thing. She could think of nothing to say and simply shook her head in horrified disbelief as tears blurred her vision.

“I don’t know when my mother found out, but she obviously knew before they were married and had no choice but to go through with it anyway. The contract was magically binding, and even though her parents technically had grounds to dissolve it, the Malfoy name and vaults were too high a price to pay for their daughter’s dignity.”

“How… how did you find out?” Hermione asked quietly.

“There were nights when Voldemort would disappear, leave the Manor entirely, or just lock himself in a room somewhere with his vile snake. On those occasions, whatever inner circle members happened to be around would gather in my father’s study and spend the time drinking and regaling one another with stories of their youth. I was unfortunate enough to be dragged along a few time.” Draco shuddered at the memory of being forced to endure hours of drunken exaggerations by men he’d once looked up to and considered pillars of Pureblood society, his gaze dropping back to the floor. “One time, Nott Sr. decided to see how shocked and appalled I would be to hear of my father’s indiscretions during his younger years, and spilled the whole scandalous affair, while my father sat there like a smug bastard, not even trying to look the least bit sorry.” The rage that simmered in his gut made his hands shake and he took several deep breaths to try to calm down.

Steel grey eyes found whiskey brown once more, a plea for understanding swirling in their depths, “It wasn’t until I learned about Bellatrix that I truly understood why my mother was so adamant about all those rules and traditions. It was her way of trying to keep whoever I might become involved with from enduring the same mortifying situation she herself had been subjected to. I know she grew to love my father, and I am ninety-nine percent certain he never did anything like that after they were married, but I still can’t forgive him for what he put her through.” He heaved a deep, tired sigh, feeling mentally wrung-out but still needing to explain how it was all connected. “I don’t want to disregard my mother’s advice, but more importantly, I don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps in any way, shape, or form. I don’t want to put us in a compromising situation, one we can’t come back from. I wouldn’t want you to feel bound to me in that way if you ever decided you didn’t want… that this wasn’t…” his words trailed off, his brain unwilling to form the thoughts that were causing his heart to clench painfully.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to refocus and calm his emotions. He heard a soft rustling and opened his eyes to find Hermione kneeling in front of him, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek. Without speaking, she leaned up and pressed her lips softly to his, drawing back just far enough to gaze at him intently.

“I love you, Draco Malfoy, and I understand. I truly do. I appreciate your desire to protect me and honor me in that way. You are _not_ your father – you never have been and you never will be – and I’m more than happy to wait for all of that. To wait for you.”

He felt like he was ready to burst into tears, which he’d really rather not do, so instead, he tugged Hermione’s hand, indicating she should join him in the chair, which she did at once, a small smile on her face. The chair was slightly oversized, which allowed for her to squeeze into the spot next to him, while her legs were draped over his knees. He wrapped one arm around her shoulder, and laid his other hand in her lap, which she took in both of her own smaller ones, and started tracing random patterns on the back as she nestled into his side. He rested his cheek on her curls and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of having her close as his heart continued to slow its rapid beating. He was wiped out from his mini monologue, exhausted from the barrage of emotions that warred within him, but felt lighter somehow. The peace and comfort the petite witch in his arms brought into his life never ceased to amaze him, and he thanked the Founders once again for crossing their paths. Somewhere deep down, he’d known she would respond as she had, but to hear her say it meant more than he could express. He knew he had one more thing to confess, however.

“I also have a purely selfish reason for not giving in,” he pressed a kiss to her temple and squeezed her a little tighter into his side.

“Really? And what might that be?” she tilted her head, her eyes glinting with teasing warmth.

“I already hate only getting to see you once a month; I miss your smile, your laugh, your kisses,” he captured her lips for a heartbeat or two, “I fall asleep every night wishing you were in my arms. Imagine how much more intolerably miserable I would be if I got to experience one night – just one night – beside you, only to have to go back to sleeping alone until the next Game Night weekend. I don’t know that I could handle that.” He pouted dramatically and she giggled while peppering kisses along his jaw.

“I can understand that,” she admitted as she shifted so she could continue to trail her lips down his throat and back up the other side, earning a shudder and a low groan from her favorite wizard, all the while maneuvering herself so she was eventually sitting entirely in his lap, facing him. His silver gaze was heated as he took in her new position and he leaned his face into her palm as she reached up to brush his fringe back.

“So, I’m not completely mental? You truly don’t think I’m… odd… for hesitating about this?” Draco felt he knew the answer, but he needed to ask, just to be sure.

“Not at all,” Hermione shook her head firmly, her eyes never leaving his, “Like I told you back when this all started, I’m in no rush. I want us to take our time, to get to know one another on a variety of levels. We knew each other last year as classmates and housemates; this year we’re learning each other as sort-of adults in the working world. That’s a shift we’ve had to adjust to, and there will be another one next year, when you decide what you want to do after your year with Bill is up.” She spoke matter-of-factly, and he thoroughly appreciated her pragmatic approach to something he often felt rather panicked about. Before he could tell her that, however, her voice faltered and her gaze dropped rather shyly to a spot somewhere below his chin.

“I’m also not… not very experienced anyway, and I honestly don’t know where to start with…any of that,” she gestured nervously and bit her lower lip before plowing ahead, “I wouldn’t want our first time doing something… more… to be rushed, or interrupted, or something our friends… would figure out,” she peered up at him through lowered lashes, an adorable blush staining her cheeks and he couldn’t help but huff a laugh as he cradled her face between his hands.

“Somehow I doubt you’d be at a loss for what to do,” he brushed his nose against hers, “Though I completely agree about not wanting to take things to a new level while we’re in the Room. Theo would be intolerable about it.” They both sniggered at the truth of his statement and she allowed her mild embarrassment to fade as she met his molten stare once more. Carding her fingers through his platinum locks, she leaned in and kissed him, gently at first, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, his lips insistent against hers and she melted into him in response. They remained there, entirely ensconced in their own little world as the fire crackled merrily and snow continued to fall outside the window, blissfully unaware of anything beyond the pounding of their hearts and the entwining of their magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings to all my lovely readers at the start of this new week! I hope the weekend treated you well and that you're all off to a positive start as we head into the last bit of September. This chapter is an important one for several reasons: Obviously, it explains why Draco has been so careful about his physical relationship with Hermione, but it's also a reminder of the fact that they are still very young, and that the world they live in is not as fast-paced or casual as our own. Considering the fact that wizarding society as a whole has not adopted the customs or conveniences of the modern world, it's not a stretch to think they would hold to ideas of propriety from a similar era (Theo and Luna being a bit of an exception!). Speaking of one of my other favorite couples, I posted a new Country Magic fic featuring them, entitled "One of the Good Ones." Would love for you to check it out! :)


	47. A Plan Carried Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers say goodbye, and Harry has something very important to do.

Hermione stood with her parents in front of the large fireplace in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa, Andromeda, Draco, and Teddy were all present to say farewell to the friendly couple who had quickly become like family over the last several days. Teddy bestowed sweet hugs on both Edward and Jeanette, and clung to their daughter with a fierce refusal to let her go.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Hermione promised him, as it had been arranged that she would see her parents off Wednesday morning, and then return to the Manor for two more days, since Harry would be going back to the Burrow until the morning of the thirtieth, as well.

“Mine, back?” Teddy asked, his brown eyes shining with unshed tears and Hermione felt her heart break just the tiniest bit.

“Yes, I’ll come back.”

That seemed to satisfy the small boy, since he grinned and squeezed her neck one more time before scrambling out of her arms and running away as fast as his short little legs could carry him.

“I should follow him,” Andromeda rolled her eyes and stepped forward to embrace Jeanette and Edward, “Thank you so much for spending the holiday with us. It has been wonderful to have you here.”

“The pleasure was all ours,” Edward assured her, and both he and his wife waved at the dark-haired witch as she bustled off to see what mischief her grandson might have already gotten into.

“I promise I’ll copy down those recipes and owl them to you once we get back to Redland,” Jeanette told Narcissa as she hugged the elegant witch.

“You’ll have to come visit us once you’re able,” Edward announced as he let his appreciative gaze roam around the opulent entryway one more time. “I’m sure you’ll be equally impressed with our estate.” Everyone laughed at that, and the kind-faced man turned to Draco and pulled him in for one of his notorious bear hugs.

“Good to see you again, son,” he rumbled.

Draco returned the hug and was surprised to find his throat getting tight and his eyes starting to sting, though he managed to choke out a quiet, “You, too.”

“Keep an eye on my girl,” Edward looked at him with mock sternness when he pulled back and clapped him on the shoulder, “Keep her out of trouble.”

Draco snorted and huffed a laugh, thankful for the teasing as it allowed him to compose himself again, “Like that’s possible.”

“Hey!” Hermione turned on them with narrowed eyes, “I heard that!” Laughter again rose between them as he wrapped his arm around her and gave her a quick kiss, and then the three Grangers were off, stepping through the green flames, back to Number Twelve.

ooOoo

Harry was pacing in front of the fireplace as they emerged, his emerald eyes wide, and a very nervous, almost manic smile plastered on his youthful face.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, not expecting him to be right there as soon as they arrived. She took in his messier-than-usual hair and the way his leg was jiggling even while he was standing still, and reached a hand out to grasp his arm, “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, good. I’m fine.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d had about a dozen cups of coffee based on the amount of jittery energy pouring off him in waves. However, she had a feeling his current state had nothing to do with anything he might have ingested, and everything to do with the plan he was gearing himself up to carry out the very next day.

“Hello, dear,” Jeanette gave the young man a hug and announced she was going to head down to the kitchen to see if Kreacher would let her make a batch of cinnamon bread, knowing it was one of Harry’s favorite snacks.

“Care to help me with this, then?” Edward gestured to the small pile of luggage he’d been left with as his wife wandered away, and his host was more than happy to jump into action.

“Happy to,” Harry grabbed two of the bags and carried them all the way to the stairs before remembering he could float them up to the second floor, along with the other pieces Edward still had in his hands. Grinning sheepishly, he waved his wand and then indicated Hermione’s father should precede him up the stairs. As they ascended, Hermione could hear her dad ask how Christmas at the Burrow had been, and knew he’d do everything he could to help her best friend relax and focus on something else for a bit.

Left alone in the drawing room, the petite brunette looked around and smiled to see the tree still twinkling brightly, and all the other decorations still in place. She hoped they would remain so for the New Year’s Eve party on Saturday, and realized she should probably take the current opportunity to draft a guest list and menu, and send an owl to Dean about games and activities. Making her way towards the study at the back of the house, she passed Sirius’ portrait and stopped to chat with the late Order member.

“So, it all went well, did it?” Sirius grinned at her and leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

“It did,” Hermione grinned back, “Everyone seemed to have a wonderful time.” She paused and thought about something for a moment before asking a cautious question. “Do you ever get lonely? I mean, was it terribly boring for you the last few days while we’ve been gone?”

Sirius considered her query for a beat or two before responding, “Honestly, it really didn’t seem like it was all that long. Whenever the house is empty, or you lot are asleep in your beds, I think I sort of… settle… as if a stasis charm was placed on me. And then, the next time you or Harry comes along, I wake up again, as it were.”

“Hmmm,” she mulled this over for a beat, “I’m glad you’re not stuck staring at an empty foyer all day, then.”

“Me, too,” Sirius barked a laugh and then leaned forward as if to tell her a secret, “Though Kreacher did make a point to come talk to me at least once each day. I think he might have felt sorry for me, the crotchety old koot.”

Hermione sniggered and glanced around, making sure the Elf in question wasn’t within range, “I think he’s going soft in his elder years. He positively sobbed when Harry gave him that Black family pocket watch, and hugged me after opening the new oven mitts and apron I got him.” They chuckled conspiratorially for a second before the young witch sighed, “I wish he would have come to the Manor, even just for a little bit on Christmas Day. I think he would have liked visiting with the other Elves.”

At her statement, Sirius adopted an extremely surprised and confused expression, causing Hermione to ask him what was the matter.

“Well, I mean to say, I thought he did go,” the former Marauder looked completely bewildered but continued to explain as Hermione cocked her head in bemusement. “He came to wish me a Happy Christmas just shortly after you all foo’d over to the Manor. Said he was going out for a bit, and that he’d be back in just a few hours,” his brow furrowed, “I assumed that was where he went. He was dressed in a smart looking pillowcase – black with a red “P” on it, I’m assuming for “Potter,” since Harry is officially his keeper now.”

Hermione was completely nonplussed now, “If he did come to Draco’s, he never showed his face wherever we were, and Merry didn’t say a word about a visitor.”

“Wait,” Sirius perked up, “Did you say “Merry?”

“Yes, that’s the name of Narcissa’s head Elf. Why?”

A low chortle rumbled from the handsome wizard, “That explains it then.” Sirius clapped his hands together and flashed a wicked smirk. “When Kreacher came back, I’m going to guess a few hours later, he stopped by during his nightly walk-through of all the rooms, making sure nothing was amiss. He was humming – actually humming a little tune to himself as he went and just for fun, I wished him a Happy Christmas one more time. He gave me a little bow, and with a smile on his face said, ‘A very Merry… errr… Happy Christmas to you too, Master Sirius,’ before he scuttled away.”

Sirius’ spot-on impression of the wizened Elf’s croaky voice had Hermione in stitches, and she couldn’t believe what he was saying, but perhaps Kreacher had actually gone to the Manor and spent some time with the others.

“Do Elves typically form… attachments… like that?” she couldn’t help but wonder aloud.

“Oh, sure. How do you think generations of Elves serve the same family? Granted, it’s not something most witches and wizards bother themselves with, and it’s not nearly as common as it is with other creatures or beings, but they definitely pair up now and again.”

“Interesting,” she muttered, more to herself than Sirius. Snapping out of her thoughts, she smiled brightly at the man before her, “I should get started on the lists I need to make. Harry’s throwing a New Year’s Eve bash again this year and we haven’t even sent out invites yet.”

“Oh, then by all means, do go on,” Sirius bowed in theatrical insistence, his arm sweeping in the direction of the study, earning himself a giggle as Hermione continued her journey down the hall.

ooOoo

Dinner that night was much less fancy than the meals they had been served over the weekend, but no less delicious, nor was the conversation any less engaging. All three of the Grangers seemed to be in unspoken agreement that the best thing at the moment was to let Harry ramble as much as he wanted. Edward asked him questions about work and recent cases he’d solved, Jeanette wanted all the details about his proposal to Ginny, and Hermione interjected updates about their friends in between. By the time pudding had been placed before them, the Chosen One seemed much calmer and more like his typically laid-back, even-keeled self.

Grinning sheepishly at his dinner companions, he seemed to comprehend what had been going on, “Sorry, I’ve been a little wound up lately, I guess.” Edward and Jeanette rushed to assure him that he was perfectly normal and they understood completely, but his best friend simply snorted and rolled her eyes, earning a rueful smile in return.

Before turning in for the night, however, Hermione pulled her flat-mate in for a fierce hug and small pep talk, “Everything’s going to be brilliant tomorrow. Ginny is going to be blown away, and she will cry and laugh and say ‘yes’ without hesitation. And then we can all celebrate your engagement on the weekend, yeah?” She pulled back and met his eyes with a determined fire in her own, and Harry couldn’t help but be bolstered by her confidence.

“Yes,” he nodded firmly, “It’s going to be great.” He smiled then; a genuine smile, not the half-crazed kind he’d greeted her with earlier, and squeezed her to him once more before letting her go and bounding up the stairs.

ooOoo

Bright and early the next morning, before anyone else was awake, Harry was up and ready to go. He managed to choke down some toast and coffee at Kreacher’s insistence, and then took off for the Burrow, where Molly was waiting for him.

As expected, the kind-faced witch was cooking up a storm in her warm and cozy kitchen, but she paused her multi-tasked pursuit to come around and give him an all-encompassing embrace.

“She’s still asleep, but you can wake her up if you want,” her brown eyes twinkled with anticipation.

“No, I’d rather not start today off getting yelled at,” Harry huffed, “I’ll wait till she’s up on her own. I told her I’d be here this morning, so I don’t expect her to sleep too late.” Sure enough, as he finished his thought, they heard movement from above, signaling her exit from bed.

Glancing nervously at Molly, Harry quickly sat down in one of the mismatched kitchen chairs, while she summoned a mug of tea and a plate of scones, so it would look like they had just been having a leisurely chat. The Bespectacled Hero stuffed an unfortunately large piece of cranberry scone into his mouth right as Ginny made her way downstairs.

“Mum, I’m going to take a shower, but if you see…” but as she came far enough into view to actually take in the scene before her, she skipped the last couple of steps and launched herself at her boyfriend. “You’re here already!” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and leaned down to press exuberant kisses on his cheeks, which were currently bulging with half-chewed scone. He hummed a non-verbal response and nodded, forcing himself to swallow the mouthful, before turning to place a kiss on her cheek as well.

“Should I eat first, or shower first?” she asked, her amber eyes dancing with joy.

“Either,” he replied as nonchalantly as possible, “Whichever you’d rather.”

“I’ll go get ready. I promise I’ll be back in a mo,” she kissed him one more time before spinning around and sprinting back up the stairs.

When she was out of earshot, Harry let out a _whoosh_ of a breath and wiped his forehead while Molly chortled.

“Don’t worry, dear, it will all go swimmingly.”

The young wizard nodded and flashed her a crooked grin while he tried to calm his rapid heartbeat. He had it all planned out, and there was no reason to think anything would go wrong. It was fairly simple, really, and none of it hung on unreliable aspects like the weather, or the appearance of other people. He was being over-dramatic, he knew it, but that didn’t stop his palms from getting sweaty again once Ginny returned to the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed, and practically bouncing in her seat. She knew they were spending the day together, but all Harry had told her previously was that he wanted to take her to a few places. She thought he was referring to some new spots he’d found in London, but she couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

After a nice, but not lingering breakfast, Molly shooed them out the door with a knowing smile and a slight sheen to her eyes, watching the young couple as they made their way towards the edge of the apparition wards around the property.

When they’d reached the boundary and stepped beyond it, Harry paused and turned in front of Ginny so as to look directly at her face. She was smiling at him with excitement and curiosity and he forced himself to act as if this was just a fun outing, and not one of the biggest moments of his life. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he told her to hold on and turned them into the ether.

When they reappeared, he looked around and grinned to himself as the sight of the scarlet and black Hogwarts Express greeted them, standing sentinel at Platform 9 ¾.

“What.. Why are we here, Harry?” Ginny’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well, I wanted to share some places with you that have become very important to me over the years, and this is the first one,” he indicated the steam engine a few steps away, “This is where it all began; my journey into the magical world, my friendship with Ron and Hermione, my introduction to you and your family. Honestly, I consider it the spot where my life, my _real life_ , began.”

Understanding flooded her face and her eyes grew soft as she took in the man before her. He stepped back from her and went to stand at a seemingly random place a little further down the platform, across from one of the cars.

“This is where I boarded the train for the very first time,” he pointed to the concrete beneath his feet, “It’s also where you stood with your mum when Fred and George came back to tell you that they’d figured out who I was. You asked Molly if you could come onboard and see me.” He chuckled wryly as Ginny’s cheeks turned a marvelous shade of pink.

“Merlin, I was awful,” she groaned good-naturedly.

“Nah,” Harry walked back towards her, “Just curious. I’ve endured much nosier, more invasive people than a star-struck ten-year-old girl.” He smirked at her and twisted a lock of her coppery hair around his finger.

“I’m glad you didn’t hold it against me,” she teased and popped up on her toes to leave a soft kiss on his lips. He returned it with a longer, deeper one of his own, content to linger there for a moment while he waited for the next part of his plan to unfold. In less than a minute, their snogging was interrupted by the flapping of wings, followed by an austere Eagle Owl that swooped down and dropped an official-looking missive onto Ginny’s outstretched palm. “It’s for you,” she passed it to Harry who adopted a look of utter confusion.

Opening the letter, he let Ginny read the scratchy handwriting:

_Harry,_

_I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, but need you to look into something. There’s been a security breach at Hogwarts, and Minerva has asked for an Auror to sweep the castle. It might be nothing, but I know she would feel better if it was attended to as soon as possible. I thought you might be the best for the job, with your in-depth knowledge of the lesser known passages and exits._

_Let me know what you find,_

_Kingsley_

The Boy Wonder snorted at the polite wording of the Minister’s letter, knowing full-well the dig about Harry’s “knowledge” was a reference to all his rule-breaking during his school days. Feigning a concerned expression while heaving a sigh, he met Ginny’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry, Gin. This is absolute rubbish timing,” his eyes took on a pleading quality, begging her to understand.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! It’s important to make sure it’s nothing serious,” Ginny was quick to reassure him and he had to look back down at the parchment to hide the grin threatening to spread across his face. He made a show of rereading the note, and then jerked his head up to her as if an idea had just occurred to him.

“Come with me.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Why not? I seriously doubt there’s any real problem – probably just a couple of students who stayed for the hols poking around somewhere they shouldn’t,” he shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Though, if you’d rather not, I can bring you back to the Burrow and then just,” but she cut him off.

“I’d much rather go with you. We’ve only got a few more days off, and I’d hate to waste that time. As long as you’re sure I won’t get in the way,” he could tell she was serious by the way she pursed her lips and he immediately set her at ease.

“Not at all. We can enjoy a stroll through the castle, which is one of my favorite places, anyway,” he squeezed her hand and smiled, “We should still have time to hit up my other spots afterwards.”

“Then that settles it,” the pretty red-head nodded firmly, but then seemed to consider something. “How will we get there? It’s rather far to apparate, isn’t it?”

“We can go to my office. I have a direct floo connection to McGonagall from there.”

In the blink of an eye, they popped away from the train station and appeared outside the Ministry, which, while mostly shut-down for the holiday break, still had several employees scurrying about. They made the trek to the Auror Department in short order, and in mere minutes were stepping out of the flames into the Headmistress’ office.

“Auror Potter, thank you for coming,” McGonagall’s stern voice reached them from across the room as she stood up behind her desk and strode over to meet them. “Miss Weasley, how nice to see you,” she extended her hands to them in greeting and gave a small smile. “I assume Kingsley explained?” her beady eyes were fixed on Harry, who nodded, “Then I’ll let you get on with it. I don’t know exactly where the intrusion occurred, only that the wards alerted me to the fact that someone or something had gone in or out of a place they should not have been able to.”

Harry nodded again, looking contemplative and businesslike, “We’ll check all the doors to the grounds, and any vulnerable areas, like the courtyard. We’ll start at the top and work our way down, if that’s alright?”

McGonagall waved him away, saying he didn’t need to run anything by her, and returned to her desk, thanking him once again.

The raven-haired wizard had contemplated starting in the dungeons and working upwards, which honestly would have made more sense as far as points of entry were concerned, but he didn’t think he could last that long. His nerves were already frayed, and he knew the sooner he could get Ginny to his destination, the better. He only hoped she didn’t question his choice to start with the towers.

Forcing himself not to set a ridiculously fast pace, he took Ginny’s hand and the two of them strolled through the empty corridors. Before too long, they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who smiled at both of them with mild surprise.

“And what brings you two here on this blustery, winter’s day?” she trilled in her melodic voice.

“The Headmistress asked us to search for an intruder,” Harry explained, flashing his Auror badge – the only thing that would allow a non-staff member access to any of the dormitories without a password

“Ah, well I shan’t hold you up,” she bowed her head in acquiescence and swung her frame open to grant them admission.

Clambering through the portrait hole, Ginny came to a full stop only a few steps into the common room. While the familiar scarlet and gold tapestries still hung, and the comfortably worn furniture still filled the space, there were candles everywhere, their flickering light creating a cozy, more romantic atmosphere than usual. In the center of the floor stood a small table with a large bouquet of red roses, interspersed with white statice and green leaves, set prominently on its gleaming surface. Next to the flowers sat a bottle of champagne, two crystal goblets, and a plate filled with chocolate-covered strawberries. However, what caught the young witch’s eye most were the several framed photographs of her with Harry, spanning the last four or five years.

She spun around to face him, her eyes wide and questioning. Instead of saying anything, Harry simply took her hand and led her closer to the display. He stopped a few feet short of it and looked intently down at the worn rug beneath their feet. Clearing his throat and steeling his resolve, he met her sparkling brown eyes again.

“This is my most favorite spot in the entire world,” he nodded towards the place where they stood, “I was standing right here the very first time you kissed me, after the Quidditch match Umbridge made me miss.” Ginny’s eyes were now filled with tears and he knew he’d have to get on with it before he became a blubbering mess. “I knew, even before then, that I wanted you – that I needed you in my life as more than just a friend – that I felt something far deeper for you than just a passing crush. This is where our story first began, so I thought it was fitting that the next chapter of it should start here, too.”

She was pressing her lips together, but her chin was still quivering as twin tears made slow tracks down her cheeks. Harry gently brushed them away with his knuckle before getting down on one knee and pulling a small box from his pocket. Ginny let out a sound that was a mixture of a gasp and a sob and covered her mouth with her right hand as Harry gently took her left in his own.

“I love you, Ginerva Weasley, more than I ever thought I could love anyone. You have stood by me, been patient with me, cheered me on, challenged me, and put up with all the mental stuff I’ve had to deal with over the years. You are the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning, and the last thought I have before I fall asleep each night. I want nothing more than to spend forever – hopefully a much quieter, less stressful forever – with you by my side.”

He flipped open the lid of the box with his thumb and smiled at the sharp intake of breath and widening of Ginny’s eyes that the ring inside had garnered, “Would you make me the happiest wizard on Earth, and do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She was nodding before he even finished his question and moved her hand away from her face to whisper a tearful, “Yes!”

He slid his mother’s ring onto her finger, marveling at how perfectly it fit and how much he liked the look of it there, before standing up and meeting her gaze once more. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her still-wobbling lips and she flung her arms around his neck. He peppered kisses along her cheek, up to her temple as she sobbed into his neck, and wound his arms around her waist, holding her as close as he possibly could as he felt his own eyes sting and his throat get tight.

After a bit, they pulled apart and Ginny cupped his face between her palms, fixing him with a blazing look he recognized all too well, “I love you, Harry Potter, and I cannot wait to begin our life together. And even though I do enjoy a peaceful existence, I would happily endure whatever craziness comes our way as long as you’re with me.” She kissed him then with a fire that set his heart racing, no longer from nerves, and he molded himself to her as he deepened the kiss.

When they came up for air, their hair was a little mussed and their lips a little swollen, but they were grinning like loons and burst into blissful laughter at the sight of each other. Harry turned to the table and picked up the bottle of champagne, angling it to her in question and she nodded enthusiastically.

“I think this definitely calls for celebration,” she announced, plucking a strawberry off the plate and nibbling at it while he popped the cork and filled their glasses.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he handed her one, and they clinked the rims of delicate crystal to one another in a toast. After a sip, he let out a massive sigh and gestured to one of the squashy couches in front of the fire, “How about we sit before I keel over?”

Ginny laughed and grabbed the plate, while Harry picked up the bottle, and they brought their little snack with them as they settled in before the crackling flames. For the next hour or so, they basked in their new level of partnership, and Harry answered Ginny’s barrage of questions about how he’d orchestrated the whole thing, and who knew about it, and what they were going to do next. He was completely content to follow her lead with the next bit, the hard part being over with for now, and his heart swelled as he took in the beautiful woman beside him; no longer simply his girlfriend, but suddenly _his fiancée_ , and couldn’t ever remember life being so perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh! I love big moments like this, and while I have no idea how JKR envisioned Harry's proposal, I like to believe he would have been a bit sentimental about it, and that he wouldn't have wanted a big audience or anything. SOOO excited for what's to come for them :)   
> This is random, but is anyone else experiencing issues receiving emails and/or notifications on here? I haven't gotten an email update about kudos or comments in over a week, which never happens (and it's not because there's no activity in my account). Just curious if any of my fellow writers are seeing the same...  
> Wishing you all a wonderful weekend! Thanks so much for reading and commenting and following along! <3


	48. Sincere Sentiments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione returns to the Manor, and Christmas gifts are put to good use.

As promised, Hermione returned to Malfoy Manor after seeing her parents off on Wednesday morning. The Grangers had been hard pressed to fit all their new belongings into their luggage, but magic is a wonderful thing and with just a few tweaks here and there, everything managed to find a place. They had all wished a spastically giddy Harry good luck before he’d headed to the Burrow, and made Hermione promise to send word once she’d heard any news of an official engagement.

Stepping through the fireplace in the grand estate, she was immediately greeted by Merry, who she couldn’t help smiling extra-widely at after her conversation with Sirius, and made a mental note to try to slip Kreacher’s name into a sentence or two whenever she had a chance. The helpful Elf informed her that Draco was in his study, so she wandered off in that direction, after insisting she was perfectly fine to drop her bag in her room along the way.

As she stepped through the door into what Narcissa had insisted was now “her” room, she found herself marveling at the rather miraculous circumstances that had led to this point. A year ago, she and Draco were tiptoeing around each other with ridiculous caution, and a year before that, she’d been on the run with Harry. Yet here she was now, a guest in the home of a family that used to degrade and belittle her very existence, but who now welcomed her with open arms and contrite hearts. The beautiful bedroom she stood in was testament to the drastic change the Pureblood witch who lived here had undergone; every book on the crowded shelf had been selected with her in mind, the colors and patterns and textiles had all been chosen based on Draco’s attention to detail when it came to her preferences and tastes. Though it was still much fancier than she would ever choose for herself, the space was welcoming and cozy, and felt just as much like home as her room at Grimmauld did.

Still mulling these thoughts over, she unpacked the few things she’d brought for the next two days and was so wholly focused on her task, that she didn’t hear Draco approach. Turning from the tall dresser where she’d just laid several articles, she found him leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets, one ankle crossed over the other, a soft smile on his handsome face.

“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in,” she went straight to him and kissed him on the cheek, “I was going to look for you in your study as soon as I put things away.”

“Yes, well, I found you first,” he murmured, straightening up and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. “I missed you,” he said after a beat.

“I was only gone for a day!” Hermione teased him, pulling back and looking up at him.

He shrugged and smirked, “Yes, but I had gotten used to you being here for three days before that.”

Heaving an exasperated sigh, she leaned back into him and rested her head on his chest. Even though she’d poked fun at him, she knew exactly what he meant. She was loathe to think what it was going to be like once the holiday break was over and she had to get back to her job and her schedule, and the real world where they only saw each other once a month. Refusing to let that melancholy thought sink in any further, however, she tightened her arms around his waist and gave him a firm enough squeeze that he let out a grunt.

“What’s the plan for today?” she glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“I know Mother plans for us to all have lunch together in about an hour, but after that, I have no idea. I’m sure Teddy will demand your attention for at least a little while before he’s put down for his nap.”

She chuckled lightly, knowing he was right about the energetic little boy, “Maybe we can take him out to build a snowman or something? Tire him out a bit for Andromeda?”

“That’s actually a great idea,” Draco grinned, “He’s not been sledding at all yet, either, and the slope behind the rose garden is the perfect size for him.”

“Then that’s settled,” Hermione announced, nodding firmly and snuggling back into his embrace. They remained that way for half a minute before Draco broke the peaceful silence.

“Even though I’m thoroughly enjoying standing right here in this spot with you, do you think we could move to a more comfortable location besides your doorway?”

“I suppose,” she muttered into the front of his jumper, earning herself a rumbling laugh.

“Let’s go snuggle up in front of the fire in the parlor until Merry finds us for lunch,” he suggested and Hermione agreed wholeheartedly.

As they walked through the halls and down the stairs on the way to their destination, Draco mentally scoffed at himself.

_Did I really just use the word snuggle? Willingly? Out loud?_

Yes, yes he had, and he couldn’t care less. While his Fourth Year self would have found the idea revolting and embarrassing, his nineteen-year-old self was more than happy to plop down on the squashy sofa, tuck his adorable, brilliant, wonderful girlfriend under his arm, throw a blanket over the two of them, and remain there until their presence was requested elsewhere. Life was good, indeed.

ooOoo

After several hours in the snow, Teddy wasn’t the only one ready for a nap. Draco and Hermione had taught him to make snow angels, build snowmen, and took him for more sled rides down the hill than they could count. Andromeda had to seek them out and tell them it was time to come in when she realized it was long past the time her grandson usually went down for the afternoon. Red-cheeked and winded, the trio trudged back up to the house where Merry vanished the fluffy flakes from their woolen cloaks and heavy boots. Though Teddy protested being handed off to his grandmother, it was a weak complaint, accompanied by a massive yawn and a tiny fist rubbing his eyes. As the pair headed off in one direction, the young couple went the opposite way, back towards the wing of the Manor where their own rooms were, and where hot baths and crackling fires were waiting to greet them.

Hermione was still towel-drying her hair when there was a knock on her bedroom door. Upon opening it, she found Merry standing in the hall with a letter.

“This has come for you, Miss,” she explained, holding out the missive, and the petite brunette recognized the messy scrawl on the front at once.

“It’s from Harry!” she exclaimed, “Thank you so much!” She tore it open before the Elf had even _popped_ away and found just a few lines of his hurried script.

_Hermione,_

_She said yes! Everything went according plan – she was totally surprised and hadn’t suspected a thing. We’re back at the Burrow now, where Molly has cooked enough to feed all of Hogwarts in celebration. Wish you guys could be here!_

_See you soon,_

_Harry_

And underneath her best friend’s note, were a few lines from his new fiancée.

**_I’m ENGAGED!!!! Can you believe it? I can’t! I’ll tell you all the details when I see you this weekend – Mum has already started planning._ **

**_Xoxo,_ **

**_Ginny_ **

Hermione let out a happy squeal as she finished reading and bounded down the hall to share the news with Draco, who was also still sporting damp hair from his recent bath. He grinned widely at her when he reached the bottom of the small page, truly happy for his raven-haired friend and his new bride-to-be. A small part of him wished he and the beaming witch in front of him could be enjoying a similar moment, but he knew he had a lot of ground to cover before that would be a possibility.

“So, will his New Year’s bash also be an engagement party?” he asked as they strolled back to their comfortable spot in front of the parlor’s fireplace.

“I honestly hadn’t thought about it, but I think we should do that,” she nodded in agreement, though he could tell her mind was going a mile a minute with ideas on how to set that plan in motion.

“I brought along all my lists and everything to finish with that today, anyway,” she stopped in the middle of the hall, made a complete about-face, and tugged him along after her, back towards her room, where she gathered up the aforementioned items. Retracing their steps, they eventually made their way back to the parlor where they settled in on the same couch, with the same blanket, but this time with parchments, quills, and inkpots laid out on the coffee table in front of them. After a few minutes of consideration, it was decided that everyone who had attended the previous year would be invited to return, and that guests were welcome as well.

“I haven’t seen at least a third of the guests for over a month, so I have no idea if they’re now dating anyone or have new roommates, or what have you,” Hermione voiced her viewpoint aloud, “So I want them to know it’s okay to bring someone if that applies to them.”

“Is Grimmauld Place big enough for everyone?” Draco wondered, remembering how packed the drawing room was last year and wondering where, exactly, any extra people might fit.

“Well, we’re going to have multiple areas open for mingling from the get-go,” her brown eyes were sparkling with excitement as she shuffled through her lists until she found the one she wanted. “We’re going to have the roof open all night for dancing. Dean said he, Seamus, and Anthony would take turns keeping the music going. I’m also going to set up a few tables up there, so people can eat or simply sit and enjoy the view if they don’t want to dance.”

Draco nodded, thinking that this was a solid idea, and also knowing how pleased Theo would be to find out his brilliant plan from the previous year would be employed once more.

“I’m also going to move some of the larger, bulkier furniture out of the drawing room, and duplicate the dining room chairs and the stools instead. I was thinking about having the food set up in the kitchen so we could use the dining room as well, but I think Kreacher might have a coronary if we send a crowd down there,” she snorted as she said that, and the tall blonde joined in, knowing just how particular Harry’s House Elf was about his domain.

Hermione drafted the actual invitation, and after having Draco proofread it and determine it to be perfect, spelled over two dozen copies that the young couple then sealed and addressed for all the friends, acquaintances, and coworkers who would be receiving them.

“You’re really inviting McLaggen again?” he scowled with distaste when he saw the name on the list.

“Well, he was at the party over the Easter hols, and though I don’t particularly like him, I’d feel rather guilty if he found out about it and wondered why everyone else was included, but not him,” she shrugged and he swooped in and kissed her.

“You’re too nice, you know?” he teased her after.

“Whatever came of his little conversation with Pansy that night?” she had forgotten all about Daphne telling her how the burly Gryffindor had invaded her friend’s space, and how – much to her astonishment – Pansy hadn’t hexed him for it.

“I think they actually went out once or twice, but nothing more ever came of it,” Draco mulled over any news he’d heard on the subject, “I got a letter from her just before Christmas, and she didn’t mention any new wizards in her life, so I’m pretty sure she’ll just come with Blaise, who, by the way, is still very much interested in Padma.”

“Really?” Hermione was surprised to hear it since the pretty Ravenclaw hadn’t mentioned a single thing about the suave Italian since spring.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, “They’ve gone on a handful of dates, but he knows she’s got a lot on her plate with her new job, and up until recently, with her sister. Now that Parvati is doing better, I think they’ve been owling more regularly, and he’s been trying to see her whenever she’s got time. I know he’ll be happy if she shows up at Potter’s.”

“Poor Pansy,” Hermione considered what that would mean, “If that’s the case, she really will be on her own, with Daphne and Oliver a couple, and Theo and Luna.” Her expression turned thoughtful, “I’ll have to see if there’s any eligible bachelors in Harry’s department that he could invite. Or maybe Oliver could bring a teammate along.”

“Don’t worry about it overmuch. Pansy can fend for herself,” Draco huffed a wry laugh, “If she thought someone had been invited solely to hoist her off on them, she’d make things very unpleasant.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hermione retorted as she made a couple of notes on one of her lists.

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as the curly-haired witch continued to sort through her parchments, finalizing plans, and jotting letters to a few friends who would be helping with specific aspects of the gathering. Just as she was writing down a last stray thought about using part of the foyer for a drink table, a pair of arms came around her, pinning her own to her sides and making it impossible to continue.

“Time’s up,” Draco muttered as he pressed a kiss to her temple and pulled her towards him. “I’m quite certain dinner is going to be served soon, and I’d like a few minutes with you all to myself before we’re summoned.”

Hermione giggled as he left several more kisses on the top of her head, working his way down the side of her face, nuzzling his nose right near her ear and causing her to shiver delightfully.

“Alright, alright, just let me put my quill down,” she pleaded and he loosened his hold on her just enough to allow her to toss it on the paper-strewn table. “There, all yours,” she tilted her face up to meet his gaze, which was pinned on her with intensity. He brought one hand up to cup the side of her face and stared into her eyes for several beats before ducking down to capture her lips with his own.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, but lingered long enough for the fire behind it to make itself known, and as they pulled apart, Hermione could see the same longing she felt thrumming through her mirrored in Draco’s eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, his pewter gaze never wavering.

“I love you,” she replied, feeling like she could get lost in the emotions she saw swirling before her. She leaned in again and had just let out a sigh of utter contentment when a tiny cough caused them to startle and jump apart.

“Dinner is ready, Miss and Master, if you please,” Merry informed them and gave a little bob before scurrying off in the direction of the dining room.

“See?” Draco smirked at his girlfriend, “Told you.”

“Yes, your timekeeping abilities are a marvel to behold,” Hermione teased him and pecked him on the cheek before hopping up from the couch.

As they entered the dining room, they saw that Narcissa, Andromeda, and a wide-awake Teddy were already gathered. The tiny lad’s face broke into a toothy grin when he saw them, and immediately started pointing to the window and babbling about the ‘ _no_ ’ they had played in earlier.

“Would you like to play out there again tomorrow? Draco asked and his young cousin immediately began trying to climb out of his highchair.

“Gen! Gen!”

“Not right now, Teddy,” Andromeda refocused his attention with a small plate filled with bite-sized bits of food, “Tomorrow, after breakfast. After crumpets and jam.”

Teddy’s eyes went wide as he considered this and looked around the table for a sign of his favorite morning snack. When he wasn’t able to spot it, his brow furrowed and he pointed at the gleaming mahogany surface.

“Um-pets! No um-pets!”

The adults all chuckled at his obvious indignation, and his grandmother set about trying to explain further. Meanwhile, Narcissa turned to Hermione and began asking after her parents.

“Have you heard from them yet? Are they back home?”

“Yes, they are. Mum rang my mobile while we were outside and left a message saying they’d arrived. She said to tell you again how much they enjoyed their stay,” the younger witch smiled as she continued. “I can’t express how perfect your gift to her was. She is so excited to plant her new rose bushes.”

“Well, you will have to tell her that I have already put her presents to good use,” Narcissa’s face turned smug, “Just wait for pudding later.”

“Would you be able to set my new telly up here for the next few days? Does it work the same anywhere? Or can I only use it at Hogwarts?” Draco suddenly posed the questions and Hermione pondered it for a moment.

“I would think it would follow the same principle, since this is a magical dwelling. In fact, your home is probably easier to navigate around, since the castle has such extensive wards and spells all over it.”

“We should try it later,” he grinned at her, “I’m rather interested in those spy movies Edward gave me.”

“Ah, yes, 007,” Hermione nodded, “I remember him watching those on Sunday afternoons when there were no football games being aired.”

“We could make an evening of it,” Draco turned to his mother and aunt, including them in the discussion, “How about it?”

“As long as we wait until after _someone_ is already in bed,” Andromeda tilted her head towards the rambunctious toddler who was simultaneously cramming food into his mouth with one hand, while trying to untie the cloth napkin around his neck with the other.

With that decided, they enjoyed the rest of their dinner, including Narcissa’s homemade sticky toffee pudding, complete with vanilla custard. Though the elegant witch fussed over how imperfect the little cakes were (since some of them had gotten stuck in the baking pan on the way out), everyone else raved about how delicious they were and Draco even demanded a second one.

“I really do enjoy baking the Muggle way,” Narcissa confided to Hermione as they all moved to the parlor while Draco went to get his new electronics. “It’s very similar to potion making, isn’t it? Having to gather and prepare all the ingredients, and follow a set of instructions?”

Hermione agreed completely, “Oh, yes. I tried to explain it to Ron that way once, but since he’s never seen Molly cook anything without magic, he had no idea what I was talking about.” She chortled, remembering the confused look on the red-head’s face, “He also considers it a waste of time, since it takes so much longer to actually finish the process the Muggle way. The quicker Ron gets his food, the better.”

Narcissa hummed in amusement as they sat down on the sofa together, “It definitely takes longer, but I found a great deal of satisfaction once the end results proved successful. I suppose I’d feel less so if it had come out dreadful.”

“The first time I tried to makes biscuits on my own – just plain old, shortbread biscuits – I burned them so badly they were almost the same color as the black pan beneath them, and I had to throw the whole lot in the bin. The kitchen was filled with smoke, and the house smelled awful for days afterwards,” Hermione was laughing outright at the memory. “My dad insisted we go out for dinner that night because he couldn’t eat with the scorched haze still lingering about.”

“Oh, goodness, I can picture him saying that,” Narcissa snickered, then looked around furtively before lowering her voice and leaning towards Hermione, “Draco is so very fond of your father, and I can’t tell you how thankful I am for the friendship they’ve started to forge. He needs some solid, trustworthy, male role models in his life right now. Lucius…” her words trailed off as her blue eyes filled with tears. “Lucius did not do right by his son. His choices left some incredibly deep wounds, as I’m sure you are aware, and I know Draco is still trying to come to terms with everything that happened… everything he was raised to believe… everything he learned in recent years about the man he tried so hard to please.” She looked down at her lap, where her hands were clenched together, and was clearly struggling to keep her emotions in check.

Hermione’s heart gave a painful squeeze and her own eyes burned as she simply reached over and laid her hand on Narcissa’s. She had no words; could not even begin to imagine living in the type of environment Draco had grown up in, nor could she fathom being married to a man like Lucius Malfoy.

The older witch took a deep, shuddering breath and met the warm brown eyes that were watching her with such kindness and compassion, it was almost her undoing. However, she forged ahead, “There is a part of me that still loves my husband – the man who made me smile, who read poems to me, who brought me flowers, who looked at me as if I’d hung the moon. Loving him does not make me blind to his errors, though, nor does it mean I automatically forgive him for the damage he inflicted on our son, our family, or our home.” She sat up straighter and seemed to steel her resolve before speaking again, her still-glassy eyes taking on a fierce, determined look. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say this, Hermione, but I truly believe your relationship is the best thing that has happened to Draco in a very, very long time, perhaps in his whole life. I have seen the change since you’ve come alongside him, and I will never be able to express how grateful I am that you were willing to give him a chance. He still carries a very heavy burden, and bears incredibly deep scars, but my hope is that with you by his side, he might one day be free from all of it.”

Hermione couldn’t stop the single tear that escaped her lashes and trickled down her cheek, and she pressed her lips together as firmly as she could in an attempt to stop their trembling. She nodded, acknowledging all that Narcissa had said, and after a beat when she felt she could utter a few words, she chose the most important ones.

“I love him,” she said simply, and gave a small shrug as if that was all there was to say, and Narcissa seemed to agree that it was enough.

“I know, my dear, I know,” she wrapped the petite brunette in a gentle embrace and hoped the young woman could feel the admiration, gratitude, and love she herself felt for the Golden Girl in that gesture.

They heard Draco’s footsteps carrying him through the foyer and quickly moved to wipe away their tears and give nothing of their serious conversation away as he strode into the room with his new television. Thankfully, he was so absorbed in his task, he didn’t notice the occasional sniffles coming from his mother and girlfriend, nor did their pink noses or still-watery eyes register as he busied himself with choosing the best place to put the device. By the time he’d settled it all, they were back to rights, and Hermione jumped in to show him what she and Dean had done back at Hogwarts in order to make it work around the magical wards.

A small series of wand movements, a set of batteries for the remote (that Draco had to run back to his room to find), and an explanation of all the different buttons, and they were ready to go. The telly that Edward and Jeanette had chosen was a model with a built-in DVD player, so nothing needed to be connected with cords or anything of the sort. The tapping of a wand on the top of the outer casing turned it on, and then the remote did the rest. Hermione stepped back to allow Draco and Narcissa a chance to play with the buttons and see what they did for themselves until Andromeda returned from putting Teddy to bed.

As she and Draco situated themselves on one couch, and the sisters curled up in a pair of armchairs, Hermione sent a silent prayer to the heavens for the wizard beside her. She wanted so much for him to find peace; for him to work through and let go of the lingering hurt and anger he still carried; for others, like her father, to come alongside Draco and offer advice and encouragement in ways she wasn’t able to. She was so very thankful for Harry and Bill and the role they had played in the tall blonde’s life over the last year and a half, and knew those would continue to be important connections moving forward.

She knew Narcissa was hinting at a future for them – she might not have used words like “wedding” or “marriage,” but the implication was there all the same. Hermione might have balked at the idea a year ago, but somewhere along the line, a seed of certainty had been planted, and any thoughts she now had regarding the path she was to take all included one specific silver-eyed man. They were in no rush, and there were no definitive plans in the works, but she knew they’d eventually get there all the same, and the mere thought of it brought a smile to her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, y'all! I hope everyone enjoyed their weekend, and that at least one thing brings a smile to your faces today as this new week begins!  
> I know I've said this before, but the redemption of Narcissa Malfoy is just as important to me as her son's. The glimpses we were given of her in the original stories, to me, showed where her true loyalties lay, and I firmly believe she would stop at nothing to help her son find the happiness he deserves. Her relationship with Hermione is such a huge part of her own growth, and now that she is free from Lucius' controlling grasp, she can figure out who she wants to be moving forward.  
> Thanks so much for reading and for joining me on this little imaginary ride :)


	49. New Year, New You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Festivities abound with the New Year approaching, and Harry and Ginny's engagement to celebrate, and everyone joins in the fun!

The end of December was utter chaos for the flat-mates of Number Twelve. With both of them reluctant to leave their significant others any sooner than absolutely necessary, neither returned to their London dwelling until late morning on the thirtieth, giving them barely over twenty-four hours to get everything ready for the grand party they were hosting for New Year’s Eve.

At least Hermione had the foresight to send out invitations several days before, and had given Kreacher a tentative menu before she’d returned to the Manor, but there was still loads to be done. Harry had no idea, but the notes that had been delivered to their friends also included a bit about his recent engagement and a way to celebrate with him and Ginny on the thirty-first. The invitations were worded thusly…

**_Please Join Us!_ **

**_For: A New Year’s Eve Party_ **

**_When: 31 st December, seven o’clock in the evening_ **

**_Where: 12 Grimmauld Place (Harry’s house)_ **

**_Feel free to invite a friend!_ **

**_Also, we’ll be celebrating Harry and Ginny’s recent engagement. If you’d like to bring something for the happy couple, a Christmas ornament for their tree next year would be perfect. Just make sure your name is on it, so they know who it’s from!_ **

**_Questions – owl Hermione._ **

**_Hope to see you then!_ **

Almost thirty of those little missives had been sent out, and though Hermione knew not every single one of their acquaintances would attend, she needed to plan at the top end of the count, especially if people brought guests. For example, she knew Anthony was planning to bring Tracey, and that Katie was dating someone new and would probably bring him along, too. Her mind briefly wandered to Ron as she considered the fact that she had no idea if he had also begun seeing someone else, or if he was still single after his brief and casual relationship with Katie had come to an end. She mentally shrugged, figuring she’d know soon enough if he appeared with anyone the next night or not, and thought there was always a possibility for him to meet someone at the party, too.

The two flat-mates were enjoying a late lunch after spending the morning rearranging, moving, duplicating, and charming the furniture in the drawing room to fit as many people as possible. Harry had the brilliant idea to move the sofas and larger chairs up to the roof (casting weather-resistant spells on them, of course), and use them for seating for anyone not dancing. The one non-negotiable item had been the Christmas tree, though the raven-haired wizard had no idea why Hermione was so insistent on keeping it in the corner by the fireplace. He tried to argue that they could fit at least three chairs over there, but she wouldn’t budge. In the end, a compromise was made that they would make the tree slightly taller, but less wide, so as to squeeze one more chair at that end of the room.

The petite witch had just finished telling Harry about playing in the snow with Teddy when she shifted the subject back to the major event that had just occurred.

“So you told me all about the actual proposal, but what happened after? Did you go back to the Burrow once you left the castle?”

“Yeah, so we stayed for maybe an hour or so, and then figured we should go, since Molly was probably bursting to hear how it went,” Harry chortled, “Which she absolutely was, but before we floo’d out, McGonagall congratulated us; gave us both hugs and told us how happy she was for us. It was only mildly uncomfortable.” His grimace made Hermione giggle, knowing how stern and no-nonsense their former professor usually was.

“You know how fond she is of you,” she teased.

“Yeah, but it’s much better when she’s barking my last name and glaring at me with narrowed eyes. I don’t know what to do with a hugging, smiling, cheerful McGonagall.” They both laughed at that, and Harry continued with his account of the rest of the day.

Upon arriving back at the Burrow, he and Ginny found the entire family gathered around, and an elaborate luncheon prepared in celebration. Bill and Fleur had returned to join in the festivities, though they would be heading back to France afterwards, and Ron and George had closed the shop for the afternoon. Even Percy had emerged from his office/bedroom to tell them how pleased he was, and to inform Harry of the paperwork he would need to fill out at the Ministry once Ginny was officially his wife and eligible for certain benefits due to his job.

As usual, it was a whirlwind of boisterous laughter, constant conversation, and delicious food. In between their last helpings of favorite dishes and the slicing of Molly’s famous amaretto cake, Arthur presented the young couple with a flat, narrow box.

“This isn’t exactly an engagement gift, but more of a tradition, if you will,” he began nervously while cleaning his glasses with the edge of his shirt. “In both of our families,” he nodded to Molly, indicating her as well, “These are handed down to the first children to get married. Bill and Fleur were given the set from Molly’s parents, and these are from mine.”

By then, Ginny had untied the ribbon and lifted the lid off the deep blue, fabric-covered box, revealing a silver knife and cake server. Though obviously very old, the scroll work on the handles was beautifully detailed, and both utensils gleamed as if newly polished.

“These are gorgeous,” she breathed, running a finger over the ornate design.

“They really are,” Harry nodded in agreement and looked up to meet Arthur and Molly’s kind faces, “Thank you so much. I’m assuming we can use them to cut the cake at the reception?”

Molly nodded enthusiastically while dabbing at her eyes with a kitchen towel, “Yes, dear, we’d love for you to do that, if you’d like.”

“How did you end up with both sets?” Charlie was curious.

“Well, as I don’t have any siblings, and your mother was the first to marry on her side,” Arthur grinned and shrugged, “We used the knife from one and the server from the other at our wedding, representing both families.”

“So what will the rest of us get? Butter knives?” George demanded with a scowl, though everyone knew he was only joking.

“I want soup spoons,” Ron joined in.

“I would think forks would be more useful,” Percy deadpanned and everyone laughed.

“You should practice,” Bill winked at the young couple and cocked his head towards the cake his mother had just set in the center of the table.

“Oooh, yes, zhat would be good,” Fleur’s blue eyes were sparkling with amusement.

Ginny glanced questioningly at Harry, who shrugged good-naturedly, and the two of them stood and removed the Goblin-made set from its casing. A small plate was provided, as well as a fork and napkin. The soon-to-be groom took ahold of the knife, while his future bride readied the server, and in a few simple, fluid movements, a small slice of cake had been cut and placed on the nearby dish. Of course, that wasn’t enough for the brothers, who demanded they actually feed each other bites of it. Ginny speared a chunk of the heavenly-smelling confection and was hovering it right in front of Harry’s mouth when George smacked her elbow, causing her to bump her betrothed’s nose with frosting.

Hearty guffaws sounded all around the scrubbed wooden table, and even Harry couldn’t help joining in, though Ginny looked mutinous. Learning from her mistake, the famous young man took two steps away from the table, beyond the reach of any of the red-headed siblings (who all groaned in protest), and held out the fork that now contained a new bite of cake. Ginny approached, flashing a warning glare at the rest of her family, and, meeting the emerald eyes in front of her, accepted the sugary offering. She was happily chewing when, quick as a flash, Harry’s finger tapped her on the nose, leaving behind dab of icing she hadn’t realized he’d swiped before retreating.

“Yes!” Ron and George both bellowed, fists pumped into the air in triumph, while everyone burst into laughter once more. Even Molly, who usually tried to curb such behavior, was chuckling and shaking her head, and Ginny was wholly unable to keep the scowl on her face for more than a second or two.

Hermione was sniggering right along with Harry as he told her the whole story, and wasn’t the least bit surprised at any of the antics that had taken place. A small part of her wished she could have been there with her second family, but she wouldn’t have traded the time she’d been able to spend with Draco for anything.

Their mirth quieted just as Kreacher approached the edge of the table, “Miss Hermione, Kreacher has gathered all the ingredients and supplies for the foods on the list he was given. Are there other things Miss would like Kreacher to prepare for the party tomorrow?” He bowed his head towards her as he spoke and waited with wide, unblinking eyes for her answer once he’d finished.

“I think we should have enough with that menu, don’t you?” she looked to Harry for confirmation and he nodded fervently.

“Long as we’ve got a pile of sandwiches and a sizeable stash of butterbeer, we’re good.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing that while most of the wizards at the party would be content with that, the witches would expect something a little fancier. It was New Year’s Eve, after all, and an engagement celebration, to boot. Which reminded her, she needed to speak to Kreacher about that very thing, but not with her best friend around.

The wizened Elf promised to have an abundance of sandwiches, earning himself a grin from his young master, and scurried off to count the bottles of butterbeer he’d already stashed in the hall closet.

By the end of that day, all the rooms that would be used for the party had been cleaned and arranged, and the roof had been properly outfitted with strings of lights, clusters of seats, warming charms, concealment spells, and a much nicer station for Dean to set up his DJ equipment than they’d scrabbled together the year before. Harry commented that it was a shame they had to hide it all from the neighbors, since it really looked cool and he was sure everyone would have a great time.

“Did I tell you I invited Dudley?” he asked as they made their way back downstairs.

“No, you didn’t!” Hermione exclaimed, “Is he coming?”

“I think so. I told him he could bring a date or a friend, but that we’d literally have to swear them to secrecy with an oath, since, you know, Statute of Secrecy and all that.”

“Ah, true.”

“I think if he shows, it’ll just be him, which is fine. I gave Ron a head’s up already, as well as Dean and Seamus. Figured they’re some of the friendliest blokes and would make it less awkward for him.”

“I’m interested to meet him if he comes,” Hermione said, considering all she’d ever known about Dudley, and how much he’d changed in recent years, according to Harry.

After saying goodnight and splitting off into their own rooms, the petite brunette’s brain continued to whir with thoughts and ideas regarding the people who would be gathered in Grimmauld Place the very next night. She’d gotten replies from more than half, saying they planned to attend, and some (like Draco and Ginny) were a given and didn’t really need to give an official response. If nothing else, she was sure it would be an interesting evening, and aside from hoping everyone had a nice time, all she really cared about was getting a midnight kiss from her favorite wizard.

ooOoo

At six fifty-eight, the floo in Harry’s drawing room roared to life, bringing Ginny, Ron, George, Angelina, Percy (whose appearance was a complete surprise), and a pretty, auburn-haired witch he introduced to the hosts as his girlfriend, Audrey. Apparently the two had been nearby when Hermione’s invitation had arrived at the Burrow, and since she had literally addressed it to “ _The Weasley Kids_ ,” it really did apply to the third-eldest brother, though she hadn’t in a million years ever thought he’d attend, much less bring a date. However, Audrey was very nice and an easy conversationalist, and seemed to help the buttoned-up young man relax a bit, which was an appreciated change.

Roughly five minutes later, Draco appeared, and the front door had admitted no less than a dozen other guests. The former Slytherin immediately sought out his girlfriend, who was chatting with Daphne and Oliver. Once at her side, he greeted the other couple cheerfully and held out a small item in his hand for Hermione to notice.

“Oh! Yes! Thank you for reminding me!” Her brown eyes were wide and sparkling with delight as she picked up the golden snitch he’d proffered, a green ribbon attached to its top, and his name engraved on the very bottom.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to put your name on it, too?” he asked.

“No, I have an ornament for them already,” she smirked and he was almost afraid to ask what it was, when she reached into her pocket and brandished a tiny glass jar, no more than three inches tall, and clearly containing a rather detailed clay beetle. Around the neck of the lidded container was a gold ribbon so that it, too, could hang on the tree. Turning her attention to Daphne and Oliver, she asked, “Did you bring an engagement ornament?” The pretty witch nodded enthusiastically and dug into the small purse she’d brought with her, while Oliver reached into his jacket pocket. At the same time, they held their hands out to her, one containing a perfect replica of the Sorting Hat, complete with wrinkly face and frayed patches, and the other holding what was clearly a miniature pair of Keeper’s gloves.

“Oh, these are perfect!” Hermione exclaimed, “Daph, did you make this?” She marveled at the detail included in the tiny, pointed hat. Daphne grinned and admitted that yes, she had, and her friend again complimented her artistic talents. “Are your names on them?” Two heads nodded and she cocked her chin in the direction of the tree, which she had divested of all decorations except for the fairy lights, “Go ahead and hang them on there while I spread the word for others to do the same.”

Careful to stay out of Harry and Ginny’s vicinity, the petite brunette invited those who were already at the party to go put their ornaments on the tree, and also asked them to tell anyone else who arrived in the future to do the same. The happy couple knew they were also being celebrated that night, since they'd seen the large, tiered cake that served as a centerpiece on the buffet, topped with never-ending sparklers and a banner that said "Congratulations!" They were right chuffed about it, but still had no idea they were being gifted keepsakes by all of their friends, and Hermione hoped they would remain unaware until a sizable collection of ornaments had been placed on the tree. The crowd was steadily growing and she was starting to wonder when exactly she should encourage people to venture up to the roof when a familiar voice boomed over the buzz of chatter and laughter and general partying.

“Alright, you lot,” Theo hollered, “The life of the party has now arrived, you’re welcome.”

His entrance was met with good-natured catcalls and retorts, and what appeared to be a cream puff sailed through the air towards his head, but he caught it with effortless precision and popped it into his mouth, smirking widely.

“Oi! Wondered where you were,” Draco strode up and clapped the lanky brunette on the back while leaning down to accept Luna’s kiss on his cheek.

“Walked out the door without our little engagement contribution,” Theo nodded towards Luna, who held up a very small birdcage that held two brightly colored balls of fluff with large eyes.

“They’re Fwoopers,” she explained and then tipped the cage to show both of their names on the bottom.

“Perfect,” Draco grinned at her and pointed towards the tree where Hermione was chatting with Neville and Hannah. Luna drifted over to them, while the two wizards remained where they were, catching up with news of each other’s holiday. The tall blonde had just finished telling his friend about the gingerbread house competition when Luna returned.

“Hermione said the roof is set up for dancing again,” she informed her boyfriend, whose brows flew up in happy surprise.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Theo grabbed her hand and set off at once for the stairs, informing everyone along the way that the ‘ _real party_ ’ was happening on the roof, and Draco couldn’t help but laugh as he watched them go.

Glancing around the now extremely crowded room, he contemplated how very similar and yet completely different the situation was from the year before. Last New Year’s, he’d accepted Potter’s invitation purely in the hopes of seeing Hermione and spending a little time with her, but he had still felt very awkward and uncomfortable around most of the other guests, aside from his housemates and the small handful of fellow Slytherins who’d decided to come. He remembered how humbled he’d been by Katie Bell’s acceptance of his apology; how mortifying the interaction with Parvati was; how he’d seriously considered leaving early and going home to wallow in self-doubt and loathing.

He snorted internally and sighed as he took in the group gathered around him. While he was still most familiar with those he’d shared the Room with, he could honestly say he thought of many more of them as friends now than he once had, and no longer felt like he was merely someone they tolerated. Case in point, Weasley was heading in his direction with two bottles of butterbeer and a wry smile on his freckled face.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Ron said as he held out one of the bottles, which Draco took with a nod of thanks.

“Weasley. Happy Christmas.”

“Thanks, you too. You have a good one?”

“I did. Hermione and her parents spent it with us.”

“How did that go?” Ron’s expression was purely curious, not a hint of sarcasm or disdain to be found.

“Really well. They’re terrific, Edward and Jeanette, and my mother and aunt enjoyed getting to know them.”

“Yeah, they’re good people. I’m glad they were able to come in for the hols. I know how much Hermione missed them.”

Draco nodded, again ruminating on how much had changed in just a year’s time, “You ready to be officially related to Potter?”

Ron sniggered, “Don’t think it’ll be much different from how it’s been all along. Mum basically adopted him after First Year, anyway.”

The pale wizard snorted in agreement as his gaze scanned the room. He noticed a dark-haired girl across the space, chatting with a bloke he didn’t recognize, “You not with Katie Bell anymore?”

“Nah, it was never anything serious. We got along great, and she’s loads of fun, but we never really went beyond becoming good friends.”

“Ah. Sorry to hear it.”

“S’alright. I actually… well, you see… I wondered if…” Ron’s ears had turned pink and he was staring fixedly at the rug beneath his feet, and Draco got the distinct impression he was about to have some sort of bomb dropped on him.

“Wondered what, Weasley?” he prodded the stammering wizard.

“There’s this witch… we sort of ran into each other a couple of weeks ago… and we’ve gone out a few times… but I’m not sure…” he seemed unable to finish his thought.

“Well that’s great, that you’ve met someone new. What’s the problem?” For clearly, there was one, since Ron was now rubbing the back of his neck with absent-minded repetition and gripping the glass bottle in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white.

“I don’t know how to keep her interested… she’s… she’s not like Katie… or Lavender… or any other regular witches,” his blue eyes turned pleading, but Draco was still unsure why exactly he was being confided in.

“Who is she?” he was curious.

Ron cast a furtive glance around the room, but apparently did not see the woman in question, though he still leaned in and admitted in a low whisper, “Pansy.”

Draco just about dropped his butterbeer, and he knew his eyes were as big as saucers, his brows disappearing into his fringe, as he wrapped his mind around what his former enemy had just confided. Now it made sense, why his advice was being sought out, though it didn’t lessen the shock of the news at all.

“You and… and _Pansy_?” Draco was incredulous.

“Shhhh! Nobody really knows yet. Not that there’s anything _to_ know,” Ron grumbled.

“Right, so you’ve got to back up here and help me understand how this even started.”

A long-suffering sigh was heaved, “There’s not much to tell. She came into the shop one day, and we got to talking. Then, a few days later, I saw her at the café and we wound up sitting together for lunch. The next week, I was closing up and she came walking down the street just as I was heading out, so we grabbed supper at the Leaky. That was the day before Christmas Eve. I haven’t seen her since, with it being the break and all, but we owled this week and I asked her if she’d come to Harry’s party. She said she would, but she’s not here yet.”

“Are you ready for people to see you together?” Draco remembered all too well the panic he’d felt at the idea of his friends (and worse, _Hermione’s friends_ ) finding out that they were embarking on some sort of relationship. It had all been for naught, he knew that now, but it was still nerve-wracking all the same.

Ron shrugged, “I’m not fussed about it, but I have no idea how she’s feeling. I don’t know if she wants something serious, or if we’re just casual, or what. I don’t want to make a wrong move and ruin it before we’ve even started, yeah?”

Draco nodded in commiseration, “Pansy’s a force to be reckoned with, I’ll give you that. Not unlike Hermione in that regard.” He chuckled as he thought about his favorite witch, who was the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful girl in the world, until you wronged her, and then she was quite terrifying. “Your safest bet is to follow her lead, but if she’s sending mixed signals, try hinting at what you want.”

Ron nodded, clearly hanging on every word of sage advice, “How do I do that?”

“Stick near her, unless she flat out runs away. Pay attention to her, compliment her, ask her to dance. If she’s not interested, you’ll know. But if she lets you do things for her, like get her a drink or what have you, you’re on the right track.”

“Okay, I can do that,” his brow furrowed in concentration and he seemed to be readying himself for battle, standing up straighter and huffing a deep breath. “Thanks, Malfoy, I knew you would have, _oh Merlin, there she is!_ ” All Ron’s confidence disappeared like dust in the wind as he literally leapt behind Draco, peering around his shoulder at the striking, raven-haired witch who had just arrived across the room. If the human shield wasn’t so completely befuddled by the last three seconds, he might have laughed at the preposterous behavior of the man behind him. As it was, he simply froze on the spot and attempted to look as if nothing was amiss while sidling closer to the coat-rack that was housing a vast amount of cloaks and jackets, and would provide a better hiding spot than his not-exactly-bulky frame.

Thankfully, his shadow followed him, and once Ron was successfully blocked from view by the assortment of outerwear, he started peppering Draco with questions about Pansy’s whereabouts, her current company, what she was wearing, and what type of mood she seemed to be in.

“How should I know what kind of sodding mood she’s in, Weasley? She’s clear across the room, chatting with Blaise, Daphne, and Wood,” Draco muttered out of the side of his mouth, lest he look like he was carrying on an actual conversation with the pile of coats.

“Yeah, but does she look happy?” Ron questioned from behind the sleeve of a midnight blue cloak.

“Of course she looks happy, she’s with her friends. She does seem to be looking around a lot, though, which is unlike her. Usually, Pans stares you down when she’s talking to you.”

“Is she looking for me?” Ron sounded hopeful as he tried to peer around the furry collar of a magenta ski parka.

“Doubt it. I bet she’s looking for Potter,” Draco deadpanned.

“What? Why would she be looking for Harry?”

“I’m not serious, you git. Obviously, she’s looking for you and if you… oh, wait. She’s spotted me,” he returned his friend’s smile and waved back, “She’s coming this way.”

Ron straightened up abruptly and attempted to turn in the opposite direction, but there was nowhere to go, so he wound up with a face full of knobbly, knitted scarf, and almost knocked the entire stand over in the process. Draco helped steady it and while they were still making sure it wasn’t about to go crashing to the ground, Pansy came to a halt right beside them.

“Draco! It’s so good to see you,” she leaned in and gave her childhood friend a quick kiss on the cheek and a pat on his arm before her gaze slid to the other wizard in her vicinity. One who was nervously carding his fingers through his shaggy, ginger locks, while rocking from heel to toe and casting furtive glances at her face in between sneaking obviously-appreciative looks at the rest of her.

“Ronald,” she said in a voice much softer and friendlier than Draco had ever heard her use with anyone outside their immediate circle of Slytherins. In fact, she didn’t even use that tone with most of them on a regular basis and he had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from gaping at her in complete shock.

“Uhh, hey, Pansy,” Ron finally managed a garbled greeting but the grin that spread across his youthful face seemed to make up for his less-than-eloquent statement as Pansy positively beamed back at him.

Draco stared between the two of them for a few seconds before clearing his throat, “Right, then, I’m off to see about Hermione’s biscuits.” The couple before him didn’t seem concerned (or even aware) of his departure, and he snorted to himself at the insanity of the whole thing. Then, he recalled the lame excuse he’d just given and laughed out loud at the way it could have been perceived. Not that he cared, mind you, since he absolutely planned to check on those biscuits…

“There you are!” A familiar voice broke through his mental innuendo and he spun around to find his favorite witch winding her way through the crowded room to get to him. He smiled broadly as he took in the soft, grey jumper, dark pair of jeans, and black ballet flats she was wearing, noting with fondness that they were the same shoes she’d had on last year. Their initial meeting earlier on had barely registered with him before she'd bustled off to greet more guests, but now he was able to fully appreciate how lovely she looked. The necklace he’d given her was centered in the v-neck of her sweater, and it made his heart swell to see his gift displayed; made him want to turn to everyone nearby, point her out and say “ _See this beautiful woman? She’s mine!”_ Obviously, he wasn’t about to do anything so territorial and neandertholic, but the urge was there all the same. The slightly-smug expression that had bloomed across his face dimmed as he noticed who trailed after Hermione.

“Hey,” his girlfriend popped up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek and then laced her fingers through his while gesturing to the girl who’d followed. “Parvati was asking where you were. She wanted to talk to you,” Hermione squeezed his hand gently and stepped away, placing her hand on the former-Gryffindor’s arm as she passed by and offering her a supportive smile.

A beat or two of awkward silence passed in which Draco debated asking how her holiday had been so far, and Parvati stared at the floor, but after taking a deep breath, she raised her dark eyes to meet his full on, her jaw set in determination, but a nervous expression on her face.

“Malfoy, I wanted to apologize,” she began in a quiet but steady voice, “I behaved horribly last year, and I need you to know that I do not hold you responsible for Lavender’s death, or anyone else’s, and that you didn’t deserve the anger and bitterness I unloaded on you. I’m truly sorry.”

Surprised by her pronouncement, Draco simply stared at her for a second, his brows raised and eyes wide. Once he’d registered all she’d said, he was quick to put her at ease, “You don’t owe me an apology.” Parvati started to shake her head, but he held up a hand to stall her protest. “While I might not have been personally behind your friend’s death, I still fought on the wrong side, still aided those who did manage to kill your classmates. You don’t need to explain your resentment; I completely understand and last year I even agreed with you.”

“That’s what Padma told me later on – that you believed the things I said. But I was wrong, and you shouldn’t put any stock in what came out of my mouth that night. I was in a bad place. You were a kid, and I know you were forced into an impossible situation. You aren’t to blame, and I really hope you accept my apology.” Her black eyes, beseeching him to take what she was offering, were now sparkling with tears.

Even though he still found it wholly unnecessary, he didn’t want to perpetuate the argument, so he nodded and gave a small smile, “Of course I accept it. I didn’t hold anything against you to being with.”

“Well, perhaps you should have,” she gave a watery chuckle, “Thank you, for hearing me out. Padma speaks very highly of you, and I can see why.” She extended her hand, which he clasped gently but firmly, and shook it in acknowledgement of the cleared slate between them. He made to let go, but she tightened her hold and smirked up at him, “Can I ask you a totally different question?”

Surprised, but happy to oblige, he nodded and she leaned towards him conspiratorially, “Blaise Zabini… Anything I need to know about him? He seems pretty serious about my sister and while I trust her judgement, I just want to make sure there’s no skeletons in his closet or anything.”

Draco huffed a low laugh and bent his head down slightly as if sharing a massive secret, “Blaise is dramatic, dry-witted, extremely intelligent, and obscenely wealthy. The only things in his closet are Armani suits and tailor-made robes from Paris.” At the look of mild surprise on Parvati’s face, he added another detail, “He has a penchant for Muggle fashion and owns more pairs of shoes than Pansy and Daphne put together, and that’s saying something.”

They both sniggered at that, and Parvati gave him a genuine smile as she squeezed his hand once before letting go.

“Thanks, Malfoy. I’m glad we had a chance to talk.”

“Me too,” he replied honestly. As he watched her make her way back to her sister and her other friends, he felt a lightness in his heart that reminded him, once again, how very much had changed in a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love so much about this chapter (even if I am the one who wrote it - lol). I love the celebration at the Weasley's, and the way Hermione has included the engagement in the gathering of their friends. I REALLY love Draco's interaction with Ron - it's funny, and it shows how far the two of them have come from their school days. And I love his conversation with Parvati because it shows how much she has healed over the past year. Just lots of warm fuzzy feelings here :)  
> Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate each one of you and hope you all have a terrific weekend! <3


	50. Ringing it In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More antics and interactions at the New Year's Eve party as everyone welcomes the new millenium.

The party was in full swing, with roughly half of the guests still gathered in the drawing room, or circling around the overflowing buffet in the dining room, and the other half up on the roof, enjoying Dean’s makeshift night club. Since Kreacher no longer had to sit and keep his former mistress’ portrait from screaming obscenities at everyone, he was found regularly strengthening the silencing and concealment spells that surrounded the four-story magical dwelling. Every so often, he would simply pop into existence in the corner of a room, snap his fingers, wait for a second or two, nod to himself in apparent approval, and then disappear again.

Sirius was thoroughly enjoying himself, chatting with anyone who happened to pass by. He spent almost a full hour discussing the Department of Mysteries, and in particular the _Veil_ , with Anthony and Tracey, who both worked the floor above and were fascinated with the things they’d heard about the top secret work done there. George and Angelina visited with him for quite a bit, as did Ginny (who wanted to show him her ring), and Percy (who wanted to introduce him to Audrey), and Luna (who had never actually met him, but had been very interested in the man she’d once thought to be the lead singer of a wizarding rock band). Theo and Sirius immediately clicked, both with a similar sense of humor and dry, droll wit, the two traded stories about Harry and Draco that would have caused both young men to turn beet-red and bellow threats about hexing certain bits to next Sunday.

At almost ten o’clock, the front door chimed and Hermione, who happened to be passing through the foyer, opened it to find an unexpected, but clearly recognizable guest on the front steps.

“Dudley?”

“Uhh… yeah, that’s me,” Harry’s cousin stared at the curly-haired girl in the doorway and tried to remember which friend this might be. She spared him the awkwardness of admitting he didn’t know who she was by introducing herself at once.

“I’m Hermione. I live here with Harry. He was hoping you’d join us; come on in,” she opened the door wider and welcomed him into the house, but he remained rooted to the spot, glancing between the dwellings on either side of Number Twelve and back at the home directly in front of him with a thoroughly confused expression on his face.

“How?” he couldn’t seem to find the words to explain his befuddlement.

“Oh! How is the house a secret?”

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t here, and then… then it was,” he finished lamely.

“It’s a specific spell, and I can tell you all about how it works, but maybe you’d like to come in out of the cold first?” she offered kindly.

Dudley grunted in agreement and finally stepped over the threshold. Though no longer the pudgy little boy Harry had once described, young Dursley was still broad-shouldered and stocky, his blonde hair now a darker shade and styled in a spikey fashion. Hermione could tell he was surprised by the sheer number of people mingling in the front room, and the amount of noise that greeted his ears once he was inside the protective enchantments.

She was just getting ready to ask if she could take his jacket when her best friend spotted the newest arrival from across the lively space and made a beeline for them.

“Dudley!” Harry called out, a wide smile on his face as he made his way over as quickly as possible. Once within range, he pulled his cousin into a friendly hug and slapped him on the back a couple of times before breaking away. “Glad you could make it. I see you’ve met Hermione,” he cocked his head towards his flat-mate and Dudley nodded and managed a nervous grin.

“Here, hang up your coat and let me introduce you to some folks,” the amicable hero instructed, gesturing to the overflowing hat stand, “There’s tons of food and butterbeer set out in the dining room.” Harry pointed over the heads of his guests to the room that held Kreacher’s massive spread of snacks, sandwiches, sweets, and drinks.

“Butterbeer? Is that the stuff you were telling me about?” Dudley perked up at the mention of food and seemed to forget his earlier discomfort at being surrounded by people he didn’t know.

“Yes – you’ll like it. C’mon,” Harry led the way and the pair took off to grab some sustenance, leaving Hermione in the foyer shaking her head and wondering where her boyfriend had gone off to. She had just decided to check the roof, since she knew that was where Theo and Luna were, when George came whipping around the corner and almost smacked into her, Lee Jordan right behind him.

“Oi! Hermione! So sorry,” George had clearly been laughing at something, his face still red and his breathing labored as he leaned against the wall and tried to compose himself. Lee was equally spent and patted her on the shoulder in greeting while inhaling great gulps of air.

“What’s going on?” the curly-haired witch asked.

“Oh, well, we’ve just figured out my youngest brother’s secret,” the lanky jokester adopted an expression of superiority, “Thought he could keep me from figuring it out. Ha!”

“What secret?” she couldn’t help asking.

A wicked smirk spread across George’s face, “He’s got a new girlfriend.”

“Really? Who?”

Lee leaned in and cupped a hand around her ear where he whispered loudly, “Pansy Parkinson!”

Hermione’s eyes flew wide. While she was perfectly happy for Ron to date whomever he chose, never in a million years would she have guessed the Slytherin Princess to be on the list of possible girlfriends. Seeing her shock, George gleefully shared the whole story – how “ickle Ronnikins” had clearly been meeting someone over the last few weeks, but that he refused to drop any hints about who it was; how he wouldn’t meet George’s eye when asked if his mystery girl was going to be at the party that night, and how Lee had noticed the youngest Weasley son acting very oddly earlier, right around the time a certain, dark-haired witch had shown up.

“But, is that all? Do you have any real proof?” Hermione insisted, seeing as it all seemed very speculative to her.

“Oh, yes,” Lee nodded with a smug grin, “That’s where we just came from.”

“Too right,” George nodded with authority, “We spotted the two of them over by the food and thought we were feeling a bit peckish as well, so we wandered that way.”

“Of course you did,” Hermione smirked.

George nodded, “Barely even noticed us, they did, so enthralled with each other.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, “Ronald was offering to fix her a plate, get her a drink, acting like a right House Elf, when we all know my brother usually has the manners of a Mountain Troll.”

“It took him four bites to eat one of those sandwiches,” Lee announced, as if it proved a very important point, which, unfortunately, it did.

“I heard him ask her if she wanted to stay in the drawing room or go up to the roof, and when she chose the roof, he volunteered to go get her cloak for her,” again, the statement was made with hushed awe, as if a great accomplishment had just been achieved.

“For heaven’s sake, he’s being polite!” Hermione finally huffed, feeling mildly guilty for buying into the two jokesters’ litany against her best friend’s less-than-perfect use of etiquette on a regular basis.

“Exactly!” George jabbed his forefinger into the air triumphantly, “When’s the last time he did anything like that?”

All she could do was laugh at the fierce insistence plastered on freckled wizard’s face, “Well, I hope they have a lovely time.” And she really did; if Ron was happy with Pansy, then who was she to disagree?

“Oh, I’m sure they will, once it wears off,” Lee sniggered.

“Once _what_ wears off?” her tone was alarmed.

“Well, Ronald happened to put what looked suspiciously like a few of our ‘ _Candor Crisps_ ’ on the plate he was filling for the two of them to share.” George shrugged unconcernedly.

“I’m quite certain he ate one as they passed by us on the way to the stairs,” Lee added.

“Must have. Otherwise I doubt he’d have told her the skirt she was wearing made her backside look like he could bounce a knut off it,” George choked out and the two of them dissolved into cackling mirth as Hermione looked on, horrified.

“You put charmed food on the buffet?” she finally managed to demand, and found only the slightest bit of relief when the hysterical pair shook their heads.

After taking several cleansing breaths, the still-chuckling Weasley explained, “No, not on the buffet. We specifically set them where we knew Ron would notice the bowl, and as soon as he took a handful and moved on, we vanished the rest. I wouldn’t be so completely irresponsible, Hermione,” he looked comically affronted.

“Oh, good Godric,” she muttered and rolled her eyes, “How long will he be spouting his innermost thoughts at her?”

“Just ten minutes or so,” George said calmly.

“Per chip,” Lee interjected, grinning broadly.

“How many did he take?” Hermione was afraid to ask.

“I’d say five or six,” George smirked.

“But that’s an hour!” she protested, and when her concern was met with more sniggers and snorts, she let out a grunt of frustration and stalked off to find Ron before he really stuck his foot in it, through no fault of his own.

She found the unlikely pair, sitting on the sofa on the roof, and surmised that Pansy must have eaten a chip by then as well, if the wide eyes and hand clapped over the other witch’s mouth were any indication. Ron’s ears were bright red and he was clearly trying not to laugh, though his brows were raised in obvious shock. Without saying a word, Hermione simply walked up to them, peered down at the plate resting on the cushion between them, found a small pile of chips among the other snacks they’d chosen, and vanished them with a wave of her wand. Glancing between the two, she smiled, nodded once, and strode back to the stairs, intent on finding her boyfriend now that the problem had been handled.

That familiar head of platinum blonde hair was easy to spot, even amidst the packed main floor of the house, and Hermione wasted no time making her way over to him. It wasn’t until she reached his side that she realized he was in conversation with Harry and Dudley, the three young men obviously in the middle of a highly amusing tale as they all emitted hearty guffaws and wiped their eyes with the backs of their hands.

“I’m afraid to ask,” was all she said by way of joining the trio.

“Ahhh,” Harry groaned good-naturedly, “Draco and I were just telling Dudley about Buckbeak and all the drama surrounding him our Third Year.”

“That was after we told him about the great slug disaster of Second Year with Weasley,” Draco chimed in.

“And Malfoy was a ferret?” Dudley still seemed unconvinced of that fact, though he was still laughing quietly about all of it.

“So, the highlights of our school career, then,” Hermione snarked and they all grinned and nodded.

“Even admitted you slapped the stuffing out of me,” Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, planting a kiss on top of her curls.

“Yes, well, not one of my finer moments,” she grumbled sheepishly.

“Are you kidding? It was brilliant!” Harry insisted, earning himself a light punch in the shoulder from the pale wizard.

“Been up to the roof yet?” Draco asked her, and she nodded and rolled her eyes.

“Just now, to rescue Ron from further humiliation.”

“What? Why? Isn’t he with Pansy?” Draco’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Ron’s with _Pansy_? As in _Parkinson_?” Harry obviously hadn’t been privy to that bit of information.

Hermione quickly filled them in on all that had just taken place, causing the three young men to burst into raucous laughter all over again, and then Draco told them about Ron’s conversation with him behind the coat-rack.

“Is George one of the ones who dropped that candy?” Dudley turned narrowed eyes on his cousin and Harry nodded with a reluctant grimace.

“He and his twin brother were always creating joke sweets and trick items, like fake wands and vanishing hats. Those toffees were one of their newest inventions at the time. I’ll never forget how furious Molly was,” he chortled, but quickly schooled his features back to genial contrition as he remembered Dudley might not have such a fond memory of the whole ordeal.

“Well, it worked,” Dudley muttered, but then brightened considerably, “Mum was so upset over the whole thing, and then so relieved when I turned out to be fine, she gave up on the whole diet business for the next two weeks. Went right out and bought three pints of ice cream, a treacle tart, and a box of sweet rolls, and let me eat whatever I wanted that night. I don’t think dad said two words till the next morning.” He gave a low rumble and shook his head, “I don’t know why they’re so afraid of it. I mean, I know magic can do some weird and dangerous stuff, but most of it is pretty cool, yeah?”

The three magical people around him beamed and nodded, quite happy to agree with him and eager to show him more of what their kind could do. Harry rounded up his fiancée and they all made their way to the stairs, so Dudley could see how they’d set up the roof and learn about the protective spells placed around it, but as they entered the foyer, the raven-haired hero paused.

“Hang on, I want to introduce him to Sirius,” he explained. Hermione and Draco nodded and said they’d just meet them upstairs and left him, Ginny, and Dudley in front of the portrait of Harry’s godfather.

When they got to the landing of the next floor, Draco paused and turned to face Hermione, though he glanced around for a second or two, making sure no one else was around. Deciding they were completely alone at that precise moment, he met her quizzical gaze with a lopsided smile and cupped her face with his hands.

“I just wanted a minute or two with you,” he explained as he brushed a kiss first to her forehead, then both of her cheeks, and finally her lips, earning himself a blissful sigh from his girlfriend. He knew Hermione wasn’t a fan of overt displays of affection in front of others, but he’d been itching to kiss her properly since arriving at the party hours earlier. This was the first chance he’d had to steal her away for himself and he wasn’t about to pass it up.

Deepening the kiss, he let his hands trail down her arms and grab ahold of her waist, pulling her against him. She, in turn, wound her arms up around his neck and played with the soft strands of his hair right above his collar. He backed up a few steps and leaned against the wall, widening his stance so Hermione could slot herself between his legs and melt against his torso, which she did. His thumbs traced lazy circles on her lower back as she rendered him almost breathless with the assault her lips and tongue had launched on his own. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who’d been waiting for an opportunity like this.

They finally came up for air when they heard voices at the bottom of the stairs, and grinning at each other like loons, they silently scuttled to the end of the hall and up the stairs to the rooftop, where the rest of the party was in equally full swing. Hermione’s gaze roamed the fairly crowded space and landed on Ron and Pansy, still seated on the sofa where she’d first found them, but now cozied up to each other, the plate of snacks nowhere to be seen. Glancing back towards the makeshift dancefloor, she heard Dean announce he was going to teach everyone how to do “ _the sprinkler_ ” and couldn’t help but laugh as half of the participants immediately began asking what a sprinkler even was.

“Come on, let’s join in,” she grabbed Draco’s hand and tugged him towards the edge of the group, aiming for a sizable spot behind Luna and Theo. Though he grumbled unintelligibly, the tall blonde complied and turned his attention on Dean after flashing an exasperated smirk at her.

Over the next half hour or so, the eager troop of novice dancers learned not only the _sprinkler_ , but also the _running man_ , _cabbage patch_ , and _lawn mower_ , as well as how to _vogue_. Their fearless instructor was quite talented, and made things easy to follow, but the wide variety of attempted movements was a sight to behold and often resulted in lengthy pauses where everyone fought to catch their breath and stop laughing hysterically. Standing directly behind a particularly exuberant and uncoordinated couple made it even harder for Hermione and Draco to accomplish anything worthwhile. Luna’s version of the _cabbage patch_ looked more an odd ballet move, and Theo’s disjointed _running man_ set Draco off howling that he looked like a drunk horse.

After a few songs, chosen specifically to give everyone the chance to display their newly-acquired skills, Dean slowed things down a bit and most of the guests began pairing off. At some point in time, Ron and Pansy must have joined in the fray because Hermione spotted them a little ways off, arms wrapped around each other, soft smiles on their faces as they talked. She sighed happily, very glad that George’s antics hadn’t ruined his brother’s night, and leaned her head against her own partner’s chest, hoping there would be at least one more ballad after this one, if not more, simply so she could stay in Draco’s arms.

Her wish was granted as Aerosmith faded into the background and Elton John’s “ _Something About the Way You Look Tonight_ ” came on, and she felt her favorite wizard shift a little. Pulling back, she looked up and found his slate-grey stare pinned on her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” she cocked her head in question.

He continued to look at her for another beat or two before shaking his head, his smile growing, “I’m just really glad to be here with you.”

She knew he meant more than just being at Harry’s party; that the “here” referenced the path they’d traveled together over the last year and where they now were in their relationship. She couldn’t agree more and the beaming smile that spread across her own face signified her agreement wholeheartedly. He leaned down and kissed her gently, then rested his forehead against hers as they continued to sway in a small circle. Her eyes drifted shut and she let herself revel in the feeling of being in his arms, of sharing this moment with him.

“I love you, Hermione,” he whispered as the song began to wind down, and pulled her to him in an all-encompassing embrace, his face buried in her curls, his arms tight around her waist.

“I love you, too,” she replied, returning his hug with equal fervor. She was just about to ask him if he wanted to go sit somewhere, when Seamus grabbed the mic and announced that it was just five minutes to midnight, and that everyone should make their way back downstairs to grab a drink and get ready to countdown the end of 1999.

It was impossible to have any sort of conversation as the herd of guests filed through the door and down the stairs, their stomping footsteps and excited chatter echoing off the walls as they went. Trays were floating at various intervals on the main level, most of them holding flutes of champagne, but there were tumblers of firewhiskey and bottles of butterbeer available as well. Draco plucked a glass of the sparkling beverage off a nearby platter and handed it to her before grabbing one for himself, never letting go of her other hand. Instead of leading her towards the drawing room, however, he strode right past the doorway and pulled open the front door of the house.

Stepping out into the night, the frigid air was just as shocking to their systems as the lack of noise. Snow was falling silently around them, and while they could still hear a muffled version of what was happening inside, it was nowhere near the volume they’d experienced mere seconds before. Before Hermione could shudder at the cold, however, Draco had pulled her down next to him on the front steps, finally letting go of her hand so as to take out his wand and cast warming and drying charms around them.

“I hope it’s alright, but I wanted to ring in the New Year with just you, not a roomful of loud, half-plastered people, much as I’ve enjoyed their company tonight,” he chuckled wryly and peered at her hopefully.

“It’s more than alright,” she murmured as she scooted even closer to him and lost herself in the silver orbs currently pinned on her. She brought one hand up and traced his cheek and jaw with her fingers, thanking the stars above that this wonderful man was hers. From inside Number Twelve, they could hear the boisterous countdown begin.

“You know, last year I almost chickened out,” Draco admitted, his eyes never leaving hers as he twisted a glossy, chestnut curl around his finger, “Wasn’t sure you really wanted me to kiss you.”

“Oh, I most certainly did,” Hermione huffed a laugh at the memory, “I’d decided to give you two seconds after the count of “ _one_ ,” and then I was going to initiate it myself.”

“Were you, now?” he teased, delighted by the way her cheeks had turned pink with her admission. The voices within the house had risen in volume as they reached the final seconds. “Well, go ahead and initiate away this time, if you want,” he arched a brow in challenge.

It took less than one second for Hermione to comprehend his words, and then she was on him. The fingers of one hand fisted the front of his jumper, pulling him closer, while the other carded through his hair, her nails lightly scraping against his scalp and sending a shiver down his spine. Her lips were insistent – even more so than they had been back in the empty hallway during their stolen moment earlier – and left a trail of sparks on his skin any time she drifted away from his mouth. Somewhere in the back of his foggy brain, he snorted at the idea that she considered herself inexperienced. She might not have dated many blokes before him, but in the year since they had started this relationship, she’d most definitely learned what drove him absolutely spare. It was all he could do to wrap one arm around her waist and sink the fingers of his other hand into her wild mane as he returned her heated attentions.

What must have been a deafening roar inside was vaguely audible to the blissful couple out on the steps, and they pulled apart to take in each other’s glazed and slightly disheveled appearance with sheepish grins. A chorus of “ _Happy New Year_ ” greeted them beyond the precautionary enchantments and they each picked up their glass of champagne, having abandoned them earlier on the step nearby. Holding them up between their closely angled bodies, and clinking them gently together, they uttered their own sentiments in much quieter voices, but with no less joy or hope for the year to come than the exuberant crowd inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! So, this was another fun one - Dudley showed up, Draco and Hermione enjoy a few stolen moments, and George's prank on Ron (bahahahaha!). I hope you enjoyed it and that it brought at smile to your day :) Thanks so much for continuing to stick with me! <3


	51. Back to the Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the holidays over, everyone returns to work, and school, and regular daily routines where exciting opportunities and creative ideas await.

The Monday after New Year’s rolled around far quicker than anyone anticipated or was happy about. Having the holiday take place during a weekend gave a false sense of extended festivity and general lazing about, and the start of a new work week after such a long break was tantamount to a slap in the face.

Harry strode through the bullpen in his department with his typical, genial nature firmly in place, though he noticed a distinct lull to the normal buzz and chatter that usually filled the vast space. Coworkers were trickling in from the lifts, none looking particularly excited to be there, and the ones already seated at their desks were armed with strong cups of coffee. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have suspected something terrible had happened to cast such a haze of gloom about the office, but then again, not everyone had gotten engaged to the love of their life during the hols. The mere thought of that glittering ring on the hand of his beautiful fiancée was enough to split his face in a wide grin as he swung into his own workspace and tossed his cloak and bag on the rack in the corner.

He’d barely sat down in his rolling desk chair when his boss, Gawain Robards, popped his head around the doorframe.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Potter,” the older man cocked a brow in question, the corner of his mouth quirking in an almost-smile.

“Yes, sir,” Harry beamed unapologetically. He’d told Robards a bit about his plan leading up to Christmas, needing to make sure it would be alright to come through the Auror Department and use the floo to get to Hogwarts. The older man had been more than happy to allow it, and made sure the connection was open the morning Harry would be needing it.

“Glad to hear it,” Robards nodded and stepped fully into the young man’s office, accepting the gesture to sit in the seat across from him, “So, how did it all go?”

For the next half hour, Harry told the story of the proposal for at least the twentieth time, since so many people at the New Year’s Eve party had asked for the exact same thing, but he found he didn’t tire of telling it. He even shared the bit about family party at the Burrow after, and the cake-eating ordeal, which Robards found highly amusing. Once the topic had been exhausted, they switched gears and discussed the cases currently under investigation and several missions that would be taking place in the next week or so. Just as they were wrapping up their conversation, Miles Bletchley poked his head in to extend his own happy regards, which were overheard by several others out in the main area, and in no time at all, the famous wizard was dragged out into their midst and made to retell the whole thing all over again. Harry was quite certain his cheeks were going to be permanently sore from all the smiling he’d been doing of late.

ooOoo

A few floors away, Hermione’s segue back into the professional world was a lot quieter, with far less attention thrown her way, and she was perfectly fine with that. She greeted her coworkers and sought out Gethsemane as soon as she’d dropped her belongings in her office. The older witch looked as if she’d already been elbow-deep in parchments and files for hours, even though it was barely after eight o’clock in the morning. They exchanged pleasantries about their individual holidays, and as the conversation wound down, Hermione’s boss pinned her with a curious, thoughtful look.

“How would you feel,” she began after a few beats of silence, “About going out on assignment?” Gethsemane watched as the young witch across from her registered her question; surprise, then consideration, then eagerness flitted over her pretty face and she nodded enthusiastically.

“I would love the opportunity,” Hermione responded with a smile, “Though I really don’t know much about being out in the field. I’ve never taken a census or anything.”

Gethsemane chuckled, “No, no, you wouldn’t be doing surveys or anything of the sort. No, I was referring to the case regarding the Kelpie herd off the coast of Rathlin Island. We’re still in the initial phases of investigation, but I’m quite certain we’ll need to actually go out there and meet with the local authorities in the near future.”

“Oh!” The Golden Girl could barely hide her excitement. She had been very interested in the details of that particular case: a large herd of Kelpies had inhabited the waters surrounding Rathlin Island for years, possibly even centuries. For some currently unknown reason, they had begun to venture farther and farther away, and were now regularly found only a short distance from Tory Island. It wasn’t a problem as far as any other herds or creatures being disturbed, but Tory Island was part of Ireland, not the UK, which meant an entirely different government with its own rules and stipulations regarding boundaries and breeds.

Her boss smiled and nodded, “Yes, so if you’d like, I’ll hand that file entirely off to you, and you can take point on all communications from here on out.”

Hermione’s eyes went very wide; she had only ever corresponded with domestic authorities, and even so, most of her work passed through Gethsemane first. To be given the whole case was a big deal, and the weight of it made her mildly apprehensive.

Seeing a flicker of uncertainty in the usually confident witch, Gethsemane leaned forward and pinned her newest and brightest employee with a kind but intense gaze.

“I wouldn’t offer this if I didn’t think you were perfectly qualified and more than ready for it.”

Her words had their desired effect and Hermione sat up a little straighter, huffed a deep breath and smiled, “Then yes, I would very much like the opportunity to work on this case. Thank you so much for trusting me with it.”

Gethsemane waved her hand in an airy manner, “There’s no one I have more faith in, Hermione. You’ll do splendidly, I’m sure.” She fished the file in question out from a pile on the corner of her desk and handed it over. “Continue with your other projects as well, until you finalize details with the other Ministries, and then we’ll figure out travel dates and portkeys and all of that.”

The petite brunette accepted the paper-laden folder and nodded firmly, “I’ll keep you posted. And thank you, again.”

With a smile and a friendly dismissal, Hermione was sent on her way. Once back in her own office, she shut her door for just a moment while she hopped in a little circle and squealed into her palm. She knew it was rather immature, but being handed a case like this was a _big deal_ , especially for someone so young and new to the department, and she was positively over the moon about it. Flapping her hands in front of her face and forcing her breath to come at normal intervals, she gave herself a half-minute more to return to a more composed state before opening her door and settling in behind her desk.

ooOoo

Far off in the highlands of Scotland, the Hogwarts faculty and staff had also reconvened after their long and much-needed holiday reprieve. Students were scheduled to return Tuesday, so most of that first day consisted of setting up classrooms, writing lesson plans, and catching up with one another.

Bill had decided to take the full two months of family leave offered by the Ministry, so he would not be returning to his post until the middle of January, and even then he would only be part-time for the rest of the month. As a result, Draco continued to be solely responsible for all Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, as well as First Year Flying Lessons.

For many years, First Years were only given a brief opportunity to learn to fly a broom upon their arrival at the castle. Those lessons only met once a week, and only for the first half of the Fall Term. After that, they were pretty much on their own, though since the youngest students were not allowed to have their own brooms at school, there wasn’t a great deal of concern regarding the possible dangers of inexperienced flyers.

When Draco had accepted the position upon Madam Hooch’s retirement, he had approached the Headmistress with some ideas and suggestions, after having spent the previous year voluntarily helping his young Mentor Program charges and their friends. He had proposed the idea of each house having one day a week for lessons (instead of combining groups), and continuing those classes for the entire year. It required a bit of juggling on Professor McGonagall’s part, making sure there were enough time slots available, and that it didn’t infringe too greatly on the other (more academic) lessons the students needed to take.

Along with teaching First Years to fly, Draco also oversaw all Quidditch team practices (another newly implemented practice as Madam Hooch hadn’t always been around for those) and refereed all matches. At first, he had let the team captains come up with their own schedules, since that was what he had experienced as a member of his own house team, but when he was handed four schedules, each citing multiple nights during the week, as well as hours on both Saturdays and Sundays, he changed his approach.

Every team was assigned one night per week, and one three-hour block of time on either Saturday or Sunday. He encouraged the captains to plan scrimmages against each other so the teams weren’t always flying with just each other. He also asked them to manage any changes in schedules (swapping of timeslots and whatnot) on their own and to simply let him know what was decided. September had been a bit of a wash with everyone getting used to the new routine and tryouts being held, but once the teams were fully established, it had been smooth sailing – or flying, as it were – ever since.

The months of December, January, and February were void of matches and outdoor practices, which gave him a bit of a respite from all that required, but he knew once March arrived, they would be back in full force. He was determined to make sure at least one match took place on a Game Night weekend, simply so his former housemates could attend, and in particular, his girlfriend. He hadn’t missed the way she’d ogled the photograph of him in his coaching kit, and he knew she kept it in a frame in her room at Grimmauld Place ever since he gave it to her. He’d be lying if he said the idea of letting her see him in action (and the response it might garner) wasn’t the main incentive for his plan.

Speaking of his brilliant witch, he needed to respond to the note she’d written in their two-way journal earlier that day. He’d left the book open on his nightstand and caught a glimpse of a new paragraph of her familiar writing just as he was heading out to the library. He’d read her clearly-thrilled news about her boss letting her take on the Kelpie case, and how she might even get to travel for it. He’d grinned as he clearly heard her voice speaking the words on the page; she tended to ramble even faster than usual when she was excited and he could picture her sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks perfectly.

_Hello, love._

_Congratulations on the case – I know you’re pleased, as you should be – and you’ll do an amazing job. I’ve never seen a Kelpie in person, and I’ll be rather envious if you get to. That would be an incredible experience._

_Students arrive first thing tomorrow, so we (the younger staff) are enjoying the last bit of quiet with butterbeer and card games in Aleksei’s rooms after dinner._

_I’ll write again later._

_I love you._

As he had written, Draco spent a portion of the evening with Neville, Marcus, Emilie, Penelope, and Aleksei, playing Exploding Snap and sharing details of their time away from the castle. Apparently Marcus’ Christmas present for the pretty nurse-in-training had gone over well, as the two of them seemed very cozy in one another’s presence, and made reference to time spent together over the holiday. After Penelope lost a third round of the magical game, Neville suggested he and Draco teach their cohorts a Muggle one, and brandished a small box that the tall blonde recognized at once. Uno was very popular with their housemates and Second Years, and was fairly easy to explain. In short order, the cards were shuffled and dealt, instructions given, and off they went.

For as quiet as Emilie appeared, it turned out she had a bit of a competitive streak in her, and this new game brought it out in full. Even Draco, who considered himself a keen and strategic player, found himself on the receiving end of her ruthless moves. He’d been down to one card no less than three times, confident he was about to win, when somehow she managed to slap him with ‘skips’ or ‘draw twos’ or changing the color to something he didn’t have. He wasn’t sure how she was managing it, but watched her accomplish the same against the other players, as well.

To no one’s surprise, the French witch won and Neville turned wide eyes on her, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” she asked, matching his surprised expression.

“It was like you kept blocking everyone from winning until you knew you could play your last card.”

“Oh,” she gave a small smirk, “I kept track of what I thought you had.”

Everyone stared at her, dumbfounded. “What do you mean?” Neville asked.

“Well, when someone plays a ‘wild,’ they choose a color they have, yes?” Five heads nodded at her and she continued, “And when you don’t have a certain color or number, you keep drawing until you get one, right?” Again, agreement was found all around the circle. “So, I just kept track of what I assumed each of you had, or didn’t have, really. For example, I knew towards the end that Draco didn’t have any red cards, and that all Marcus had in his hand was blue.”

Silence met her explanation until finally Penelope found her words.

“That’s quite impressive, Emilie. There’s a lot of deduction and theorizing that goes into that sort of thing, not to mention remembering what everyone’s picked up or played.”

The young witch smiled, “I’ve always had a knack for puzzles and guessing games. I like trying to figure out the possibilities.”

“No wonder you were top of your class,” Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a light squeeze, causing her cheeks to flush, though she couldn’t hide her smile at his compliment.

Thinking of another witch who was known for being quite brilliant, Draco decided to call it a night and see if Hermione had responded to his most recent missive. From the doorway of his bedroom he could see that she had and felt a wide smile spread across his face in response as he hurried over and flopped onto his bed, the journal already in his hand.

**_Oh, I hope you had a fun time with the others! I’m so glad there are several new, younger faculty there now. Not that you and Neville couldn’t have managed just fine on your own, but I’m sure it’s nice to have others of a similar age around. I think I would feel enormously out of place if I had to spend every meal or meeting with people decades older than me, who had been teaching for twice as long (or longer) than I’d even been alive._ **

**_Though I also think it would be fascinating to hear more about their experiences. I always found Professor Sinistra to be very interesting and often wondered what her own schooling had been like. She attended Castleobruxo in Brazil – did you know? And I remember Professor Flitwick mentioning he’d done his apprenticeship under a Charms master at Mahoutokoro. It would be marvelous to see how the Japanese teach magic to their students._ **

**_You mentioned Aleksei went to Durmstrang – did he know Viktor while he was there? What made him choose Hogwarts as a teaching post? Is it very different now that Karkaroff is gone? I suppose he might not know, if he’s been gone for several years now, though._ **

**_I went to the Burrow for dinner last night. I had promised Molly I would come visit as soon as the holidays were over, and that was the earliest I could manage. She was ever so pleased, and is already planning the wedding, even though Ginny has told her repeatedly that they aren’t doing it this spring or summer. Her schedule with the Harpies is already completely full, and she’s not about to ask for time off during their busiest months._ **

**_Bill and Fleur were back from visiting her family, and are staying on for another week before returning to the castle. He admitted that as much as he loves spending all this time with Victoire, he truly does miss teaching and is looking forward to getting back. Said he knows the students will be disappointed, though, since they’ve thoroughly enjoyed having Coach Malfoy giving their lessons._ **

**_I think I would enjoy Coach Malfoy giving me lessons, too._ **

**_I’ll be up for a bit if you want to write back!_ **

**_Love you, xoxoxo_ **

Draco chuckled lowly as he read the last little bit again, grinning at the thought of his cheeky witch. The time they’d spent together over the holiday break had been nothing short of perfect in his book, and he felt as if they’d turned a corner in some ways. Between the introduction of their families, and the relationships that had been forged there, and the heavier conversations they’d engaged in, he felt they’d reached a new level of commitment or promise or something. He felt rather sappy and ridiculous for trying to categorize it as such, but having reached the one-year mark as a couple seemed important, as did those other milestones of sorts.

Since their chat in his sitting room regarding his traditional upbringing, it seemed they’d grown more comfortable with each other in that particular realm. Neither of them were still very fond of blatant public displays, but he wasn’t as hesitant to kiss her or hold her close in front of others as he had been before. And when they were alone… well, it was clear that Hermione appreciated knowing exactly where they stood on the issue, and that it gave her the freedom to express her affection for him even more enthusiastically than she’d done before. He did _so_ love her eager, passionate ministrations. His blissful smile turned into a bit of a scowl as he considered the fact that now he wouldn’t see her for over two weeks, after enjoying her company for days in a row. Sighing in a way that was admittedly dramatic – even for him – he mentally berated himself for being ridiculous and decided to focus instead on jotting a quick reply to the source of his rampant emotions.

_Hello again, my beautiful, little bookworm._

_Only you would wonder about our former teachers’ education and upbringing while writing to your significant other. (I am rather significant, aren’t I?) It’s adorable and I love you for it. I think no matter where your career path takes you, you will always be a student at heart, with a never-ending desire to learn and understand. It’s a wonderful quality to have._

_As for Coach Malfoy teaching you a lesson or two… I’m quite certain that could be arranged._

He paused there, quill poised over the journal as his mind wandered off in directions he wasn’t about to put into words, conjuring images of the loveliest pair of deep, brown eyes, the most perfect, most kissable lips, the softest skin that smelled of apricots and vanilla. He’d been staring unseeingly at the page in front of him and was brought back to the present as letters his hand had not formed began appearing beneath what he had written.

**_Perhaps Coach Malfoy can show me his classroom next time I’m there…._**

Oh, so she wanted to play tonight. Well, he was happy to go along with it.

_I’m sure he could._

_Would you like a private study session?_

**_That would probably be best. I do tend to have lots of questions, which_ **

**_might take quite a bit of time._ **

_I’ll make sure the schedule is cleared so you can have all the time you need._

_**I appreciate it.**_

**_I find lengthy study sessions to be the best way to hone one’s skills._ **

_Indeed._

_Are there any particular skills you wish to sharpen?_

**_Hmmmm…._ **

**_I’ll have to think on that. My book knowledge is fairly thorough._ **

**_Perhaps the practical side is the best place to start._ **

**_There are some things you can’t learn simply by reading._ **

_Very true._

_A hands-on approach might be best, then, yes?_

_**Oh, definitely.**_

**_Physical demonstrations are essential to thorough understanding._ **

Draco was vacillating between snorts of laughter and groans of frustration. Hermione might not think she had a lot of know-how in the world of intimacy, but she managed to send his blood racing every single time. Her kisses were like fire in his veins, and even her words turned his brain into a pile of mush as he imagined the scene they were teasingly creating with their writings.

_I’m excellent at demonstrating._

_I would be more than happy to put those skills to use to help further your education._

**_I literally just choked on my tea._ **

**_I think that’s a sign that I need to call it a night._ **

**_Merlin, I miss you. The hols spoiled me – letting me keep you close_ **

**_for the better part of a whole week._ **

**_I’m already counting the days till Game Night._ ** ****

_Me, too, love._

_All of it._

_**I’ll write again tomorrow! I love you. xoxoxo**_

_I love you, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the halfway point! Like the first story (A Thousand Words), this one will take us to the end of the school year. There's lots of exciting stuff ahead for our main couple, as well as their friends and family, though there's also a bit of drama coming down the pike. Thanks so much for reading, commenting, and continuing on with me along this lengthy rabbit trail - I truly hope you're enjoying it as much as I am!   
> I recently posted a new o/s entitled Inopportune; would love for you to check it out! <3


	52. A First for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Game Night weekend of the New Year is upon them, Draco considers his next steps, and the housemates learn something from an unlikely teacher.

By the middle of January, everyone seemed to be back into their normal, standard routine. The excitement of returning to school after the break had worn off as no one had anything “new” to share with their classmates and friends anymore, and though some days drifted by in a rather mundane fashion, there was comfort in that familiar monotony.

Bill returned to the classroom, but had told Draco in no uncertain terms that he expected the younger wizard to continue to teach at least half of the lessons and handle a portion of the planning. The red-head’s reasoning was two-fold: it was silly to waste the obvious talents of his assistant just because he had come back from leave, and he thought Draco would be utterly bored if he had to go back to doing the bare minimum. He wasn’t wrong on either account, and the tall blonde was extremely thankful his mentor was so astute, since he hadn’t been entirely sure how to go about asking for things to do without overstepping his role.

After one particularly unique lesson with a class of Seventh Years, in which the students were divided into small groups and given moderately cursed objects to try to undo without destroying them, the co-workers were discussing the results when Bill veered off in a completely different direction.

“Any idea what you want to do next, Draco?” his tone was still conversational as he went about setting up for the first lesson of the next day.

“With the Seventh Years?” Draco asked while flicking his wand and sending the chairs and desks back to their proper rows.

Bill chuckled, “No, I mean once this term is over.”

That brought the young man up short. He turned to face the Defense professor with a slightly furrowed brow, “Honestly, no. I haven’t really thought that far yet.” He gave a huff and shrugged, “I guess I need to start.”

Bill walked over to him and sat on top of a nearby desk, jerking his chin towards the one across from him for Draco to do the same, which he did.

“As much as I would love to keep you on as my assistant, I don’t know that McGonagall will let me, seeing as I won’t need to take any sort of extended leave again.” He studied the recent graduate for a moment before continuing, “Unless you wanted to officially go for a mastery in Defense; if you eventually wanted to teach.”

Draco thought about that, “I’m not sure that’s what I want to do long-term.” He hesitated, not wanting to insult Bill in any way, “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed being in here this year, but I don’t know that teaching is the right career path for me.”

Bill rumbled out a low laugh, “Believe me, I never thought I’d be standing in front of a group of students either. When I finished school, I couldn’t wait to get out in the real world – to travel and find hidden artifacts – to do dangerous, exciting work. And I did. And then somehow, I landed here.” He shook his head ruefully, “I don’t know how long I’ll stay put, but for right now, it’s ideal. I get to share what I know, while staying home with my family, and not living out of a trunk or fighting off portkey exhaustion.”

Draco sniggered at that, but then sobered as he mulled over Bill’s words, “I think that’s part of the problem for me. I’d really like to do something… I don’t know… interesting or exciting. But I still have another year’s probation, so I’m limited in my options, and I also don’t have any sort of mastery at all, so I have to start from nothing, even if I don’t begin until my three years is up. That puts me quite a bit behind other graduates.” He scowled at the floor below the desk as he considered the truth of it, not having really let his mind wander down this path before.

A few beats of silence passed before Bill suddenly sat up a little straighter and pinned him with a curious look, “Let’s pretend for just a mo’ that you could do whatever you wanted; could pursue whatever career path you desired. What would you choose? What interests you most? Charms? Potions? Runes?”

Without hesitation, Draco replied, “Curse-breaking,” and then his eyes widened as if he’d surprised himself with his admission.

“Really?” Bill’s own eyes were round, too, but his tone was more of interest than disbelief. “Like what I used to do? What the team at Gringotts does?”

“Yeah. That day we visited, I was fascinated by the work Carson and his team were doing, and even with the big, dramatic, almost-disaster, I wanted to learn more. When he and I met for lunch at the end of the summer, I had to stop myself from asking if I could visit again, since I knew that wouldn’t really be possible with my circumstances.”

“I wonder…” Bill’s voice trailed off as he stared at a random point over Draco’s shoulder. “Would you mind if I poked around a bit? Asked a few questions, tried to see what we could manage?”

“What do you mean?” The young man’s heart was starting to speed up, but he didn’t want to read too much into what his mentor was saying.

“Gringotts doesn’t exactly do a mastery program with their curse-breakers; more of a tiered apprenticeship program. You move forward after completing the requirements at each level, but there’s no real time frame given. Some finish in months, some take years, depending on their level of skill and proficiency.”

Sidetracked for a moment by his own curiosity, Draco couldn’t help but ask, “How long did it take you?”

“Eight months and eleven days,” Bill snorted, “Carson finished in eight months and two days and has held those nine extra days over my head ever since. All because I accidentally blew up the marble bust of Athena we were trying to remove a series of curses from.” He rolled his blue eyes as if it had been nothing more than a minor mistake, “It’s not like the Heraklion staff even knew we’d taken it, since we made a copy in its place.”

Draco opened his mouth to ask another question, but Bill cut him off, “But back to the whole curse-breaking endeavor. If you’re serious about it, there might be a way to get you started on the process, even while you’re still on probation.”

“You think so?” he couldn’t quite hide the hope in his voice.

“Let me work on it. It will probably take a few weeks, at the very least, to even get some basic answers, but I’ll keep you posted on whatever I find out.”

“That’s… I mean… that would be brilliant, Bill. Thank you,” Draco stood from the desk he’d been perched on and extended his hand, sincere appreciation clearly showing on his face.

“Oh, you’re more than welcome,” Bill shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder as he stood, too. “You’re a natural, if your performance last year is any indication, and I know Carson would be thrilled to have you on board if it all works out.”

It took Herculean effort to simply nod and grin, and walk out of the classroom as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred, when in reality, Draco wanted to sprint down the hall, whooping with glee at the prospect that had just been laid before him. He had been completely honest with Bill; he hadn’t given much thought to his future because he didn’t think he’d be allowed to work towards one yet. With another year still to go for his Ministry sentence, and his help no longer needed in the Defense classroom, he’d honestly just resigned himself to spending those twelve months at the Manor with his mother, aunt, and cousin, with weekly visits from Potter being his only connection with the outside world.

But if Bill could pull this off… He wasn’t going to get ahead of himself. As he strolled through the corridors, making his way back to his quarters, he resolved not to ask the older wizard a single question about the progress he was making. He knew between lesson plans, a full class schedule, and a brand new baby, Bill had his hands quite full, and the future of an acquitted Death Eater would not be his main focus. It would take time, if anything ever came of it at all, and Draco was simply grateful for the help and support being offered. So he wouldn’t press for updates, and wouldn’t let his hopes get too high just in case it fell through, but the possibility warmed him and put an extra spring in his step as he went on his way.

ooOoo

The first Game Night of the new year was upon them quicker than most had anticipated. With all of them having seen each other at least once during the holidays, and with less than three full weeks to get through before their allotted weekend, most of the former housemates were scrambling to get their schedules cleared and loose ends tied up so they could leave their respective jobs and homes, and head out to their beloved castle.

Though it was bound to happen at some point in time, everyone was still very surprised and sorely disappointed to find out that one of their number would not be able to attend. Padma had been given the lead on a story that required her to spend the weekend in Wales, and though she was very excited about this step up in her journalistic career, she was thoroughly bummed about missing her friends. She’d owled Hermione as soon as she realized her conflict, and asked her to apologize to the group on her behalf, which the petite brunette did as soon as they’d all gathered in the Room on Friday evening.

“Will us being an odd number mess up your game?” Hannah asked Dean, who shook his head and explained that he’d planned for them to simply continue on with Dungeons and Dragons, which thrilled Theo to no end, and simply meant that Hannah would be playing without her partner.

As they enjoyed a leisurely supper together around the long, wooden table, Daphne made a reluctant announcement.

“I hate to say this, but I don’t think I’ll be here for the February Game Night next month,” she cringed as she said it and was met with a chorus of protests and disappointed groans. “I know, I know. I’m sorry!”

“Where will you be?” Draco asked.

“Well, my mother is insisting on taking Astoria on her “tour,” even though my sister has no desire to go whatsoever.”

While Draco and Theo nodded commiseratingly, the rest simply stared at her in bemusement.

“Oh, it’s a stuffy Pureblood tradition,” Daphne huffed and rolled her eyes, “Stretching all the way back to the Victorian era, and possibly even before. A witch, once she comes of age, is supposed to embark on a lengthy holiday with the women in her family; mother, sisters, aunts, cousins, whatever. They will visit places of cultural significance, mostly in the realm of the arts and fashion, such as Paris, Milan, Rome, even New York.”

Understanding settled among the group as Hermione asked, “Did you go on a tour?”

The pretty blonde shook her head, “No. I turned seventeen while we were basically in hiding during the war. By the time we returned home, I only had about two weeks to get ready to come here for my Eighth Year, not that I minded.” She snorted delicately, “As much as I love fashion, the thought of traipsing around those marvelous cities with my mother nagging me about every article of clothing I so much as breathed at did not appeal to me in the slightest.”

Everyone chortled at that and she continued with a wave of her hand, “Then, after I graduated, I had already set up my arrangement with Mrs. Beecham, much to my mother’s dismay, so it simply wasn’t possible for me to go gallivanting about on some ridiculous trip. She had tried to guilt me into it, saying it was for Tori, too, but my sister didn’t want to go either, so I didn’t feel bad for sticking with my plans.”

“So, your mother has planned it all now?” Hannah was curious.

Daphne sighed dramatically, “Yes. Tori announced over Christmas that she has been granted an apprenticeship under the head matron at Beauxbaton’s. She wants to be a healer, like Madam Pomfrey, but I believe the spot here is already taken through next year?” She glanced at Neville and Draco who both nodded, confirming her reference to Emilie. “My father was quite pleased, but my mother was apoplectic. Apparently not a single witch in her entire ancestry has ever done anything other than marry well and have babies, and now both my sister and I are disgracing her family tree by choosing to have careers.”

“Well, I think it’s brilliant,” Theo grinned at his childhood friend, “Here’s to the Greengrass sisters for breaking tradition.” He raised his goblet of pumpkin juice, and everyone at the table followed suit while Daphne laughed appreciatively and nodded her thanks.

“So, all that to say, in an attempt to keep some sort of peace, Tori and I agreed to go on an abbreviated version of a tour, and we’ll be spending roughly two weeks hopping about from city to city, spending our father’s money, and enduring our mother’s lectures about propriety and decorum and whatever other tosh she can come up with. It’s taking place the twelfth through the twenty-sixth of February, so I won’t be here for our Game Night.”

“You won’t be around for Valentine’s Day, either,” Hermione commented, obviously disheartened for her friend, knowing how close she and Oliver had grown in recent months.

“Oh, I know, and I’m quite certain that was intentional on my mother’s part, too,” Daphne’s expression turned dark. “Oliver came to visit during the hols and while my father thinks he’s fantastic, my mother is not so easily impressed.”

“But Wood is a famous Quidditch player!” Dean was affronted on behalf of his fellow Gryffindor.

“Yes, but he’s not from a wealthy, aristocratic family, nor is he descended from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, _and_ he’s Scottish,” Daphne rolled her eyes as she continued, “None of that matters to me, of course, but you’d think I was scraping the bottom of the cauldron with him, the way my mother behaves. But Oliver isn’t so easily deterred and has already told me we’re doing Valentine’s early.” A smug smile bloomed across her face as she took another dainty bite of her dinner.

“Good for you two,” Theo nodded firmly, “Nobody puts any stock in all that rot anymore, anyway.”

“Has your mother still been trying to set Astoria up with a suitor?” Hermione remembered her friend’s comments on the subject in a letter months before.

“Hah! Yes,” Daphne grinned at her audience, “Just before Christmas she invited Miles Bletchley over under the pretense of needing an Auror’s help with a possibly cursed object, but was suddenly called away, leaving him to spend an awkward hour with my sister over tea that had been clearly set for the two of them.”

“Wow,” Draco was impressed by the lengths to which his friend’s mother seemed determined to go to in order to secure a proper match for her daughter. Everyone else around the table seemed to echo his sentiments.

“Isn’t he a bit old for her? I mean, she’s just in Seventh Year now, and he was a year or two older than us,” Theo frowned in consternation.

“Yes, but apparently age doesn’t matter to my mother. Joke’s on her, though,” Daphne shrugged, “Miles told Tori he’s been dating a witch from the Department of Magical Catastrophes, and Tori confided she’s been spending an awful lot of time with Dennis Creevey lately.”

“Dennis?” Hermione blurted out, immediately picturing the sandy-haired boy who had emulated his older brother, Colin, in his awe of the famous Harry Potter. “But he’s a Muggleborn!”

“Mmhmm,” Daphne went on with a gleam in her eye, “Dennis is a year younger, but he’s very sweet and seems quite taken with her. She showed me a letter he’d written over the break. I don’t know if anything will come from it, but she’s happy and that’s all I care about.”

“He’s a good kid,” Draco mused, thinking about the Sixth Year student. He’d gotten to know him better since teaching Defense, and was already close with the youngest Creevey brother, Andrew, since helping him learn to fly the year before.

“Once again, why do I feel so _old_ ,” Anthony moaned, scrubbing his face with his hands and earning a good-natured round of whinging and teasing from his friends.

“We’ll miss having you here, Daphne, but I think the time with your mother and sister will be important for all of you. Perhaps it will give your mother a chance to see that each of you are your own person, and learn to appreciate that,” Luna interjected sagely with a kind smile on her face.

“I hope so,” the other blonde met her gaze and grinned in return, “At the very least, I’ll have added to my wardrobe and sketchbook by the end.”

With that, the conversation turned to their plans for the rest of the weekend, all talk of suitors and proper lineage dismissed.

ooOoo

Saturday was a lazy day for the former housemates, with many of them taking advantage of the chance to sleep later than they might normally, and lounge about with cups of coffee and a seemingly never-ending supply of pastries.

“Have you tried one of these?” Anthony was waving a raspberry danish in the general direction of anyone sitting in front of the fire, which was most of them. “They’re incredible!”

“I had a lemon one earlier,” Hannah nodded in agreement, “They’ve always been good but these are just really, _really_ good.”

“I wonder what the difference is,” Neville pondered aloud as he made himself a third cup of very strong, very sweet coffee and plucked his fourth breakfast confection off the platter.

“Maybe the Elves are trying a new recipe,” Hermione offered from her comfortable spot on the couch next to Draco.

“Elves don’t follow recipes, silly,” he poked her in the side, causing her to give a small shriek.

“Of course they do!” she insisted, “At some point in time, someone had to explain how to make all the things they serve here, so there had to have been a recipe.”

“Have you ever seen a cookbook in Kreacher’s kitchen?”

“Well… no, but he’s been cooking for ages, he wouldn’t need one anymore, would he?”

“You mean he hasn’t tried anything new in the last few years that you’ve known him?” A smug smirk was growing across Draco’s face, since he already knew the answer to that.

Instead of admitting defeat, his girlfriend narrowed her eyes and sniffed with mock indignation, “Kreacher doesn’t like anyone bothering him while he’s cooking, so I’ve not been down there very often while he’s actually preparing things.”

Draco let out a booming laugh and pulled her into his chest so he could place a kiss on top of her head, though she tried valiantly to pull away.

“Well, let’s just find out,” Theo suggested with his mouth full of half of his fourth pastry as well. Swallowing rather thickly, he glanced about the room and hollered, “Umm, could we see a Kitchen Elf, please?”

His request was met with utter silence, until his friends all started giggling at his attempt to summon one of the tiny creatures, but after several seconds, a _crack_ sounded and there, in their midst, was one of the Elves he’d been seeking.

“Did someone call for an Elf?” the newcomer inquired, staring at each of them with his enormous eyes.

“Well, yes, actually,” Theo leaned forward in his seat and met the Elf’s gaze, “We had a bit of a question, you see, about cooking.”

“Cooking?” his high-pitched voice was rather scratchy and filled with confused curiosity at the whole situation.

“Yes,” Luna joined in, sliding off her perch on the sofa beside her boyfriend and kneeling before the diminutive being, “We wondered if Elves ever use recipes or cookbooks, or if everything you make is somehow already known to you?”

The Elf pondered the question as he studied the fairy-like witch. It wasn’t often his kind were approached by humans for anything more than instructions or orders, and certainly never for questions about their own ways and means. Elf magic is extremely powerful, and vastly different from other beings, and as such is highly guarded and typically kept secret. But this… he didn’t see the harm in answering a few questions about cooking, of all things.

“We is not using notes or… or recipes, as you say, miss. We, the Kitchen Elves, all knows these things. Just like the Cleaning Elves know all the housekeeping spells, and the Grounds Elves know all the ones for grass and plants and growing things.”

This seemed to be quite the revelation to the group around him, and he could tell several of them were interested in knowing more, but he decided to stick to the point and forged ahead, “When the Headmaster or Headmistress has a special request, we is sometimes needing to use the book, but even then, it is not common.”

“So, if I were to ask you to fix a pot of Spaghetti Bolognese, you could do it, no problem?” Dean asked, impressed.

The Elf nodded and then turned to Draco, who asked, “What about cinnamon bread?”

Hermione made a surprised sound and he nudged her in the side with a small smirk, knowing that this was a completely Muggle treat, and wondering what the Elf would say.

Their visitor mulled this over for a second, his enormous eyes fixed on a random point off in the distance, almost as if he was lost in thought, which apparently he was. Suddenly, he gave himself a little shake and refocused his attention on the tall blonde.

“I is thinking we might need to check the book for that one, sir. I is not quite sure we have made it before.” With that, he gave a little bow and disappeared with the same sharp sound that accompanied his arrival, leaving all of them rather stunned by his quick departure.

“Oh, I hope we haven’t offended him!” Hermione exclaimed, dismayed by the thought.

“Nah, he didn’t seem upset,” Dean reassured her.

“Maybe he went off to find the recipe,” Neville was hopeful.

“We still didn’t get the answer, though!” Theo whinged as he got up and strode over to the table, which was still laden with breakfast treats.

“What are you talking about?” Anthony argued lightly, “He told us they know almost everything, and hardly ever consult a book.”

“Yes, but we never got around to asking about these,” the lanky brunette held up a blueberry danish and proceeded to stuff half of it into his mouth. After swallowing with difficulty, he continued, “We wanted to know if it was a new recipe!”

Good natured groans met his reminder, and several others went to grab another delicious snack. Within minutes, talk turned to the rest of their day, and what they’d be doing with their Seconds tomorrow. They were so completely engrossed with their schedule for Sunday, that they didn’t notice anyone had joined their party until a squeaky voice was loudly cleared from just beyond their circle.

“Excuse me, sirs and misses, but I has brought it,” the same Elf that had answered their earlier questions was now standing at the edge of the table, pointing to a platter that hadn’t been there earlier. “You will let us know if it is not to your liking, yes?”

Hermione popped up and made her way over, realizing before she was even halfway there that the large dish contained two loaves of what looked remarkably like the cinnamon bread she made with her mother, one already sliced.

“But how,” her words trailed off as her eyes grew round.

The Elf bowed and smiled, “We did have to search for this one, miss. It was not known to us, but we hopes it is good.”

“Thank you so much,” the pretty witch paused, “What is your name?”

“Alfie, miss,” he puffed his chest out proudly.

“Well, thank you ever so much, Alfie, I’m sure it will be delicious. Everything you make for us is!”

“Oh, it’s scrumptious,” announced Theo, who had snagged a piece and was chewing happily, eyes closed, a small smile tugging at his mouth. Once he swallowed, he blurted out his very important query, “Have you done something new with these?” He waved a hand over the pastry tray, “They’re always fantastic, but these are even better than usual.”

Alfie looked a little smug and nodded at the compliment, “We is using a little more butter, sir, and adding more filling.”

“Well, it’s spot on,” Hannah said encouragingly as she held up her own half-eaten one from across the room.

“I will tell the others,” Alfie promised, “They is always a little worried when we try something for the first time.” Again, he gave a small bow and vanished with a _crack_.

“Well, there you have it,” Anthony declared as he joined Theo beside the table, followed by everyone else, and all chatter was suspended until they each had a chance to try the latest culinary offering from the Hogwarts Kitchen Elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! I love using the Game Night weekends as a way to update everyone on the other housemates, and Daphne was the focus for this chapter. I have always felt that the second term of the school year goes by much more quickly than the first, and that will be true for my fictional friends, too. There's lots of exciting stuff coming their way that I can't wait to share with all of you :) Thank you, as always, for reading and commenting and being so invested in these ramblings of mine <3


	53. Cellars, Lizards, and Anchovies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fun with the housemates and their young friends as the weekend continues.

Dean had briefly alluded to a bit of a surprise he’d be unveiling at their Game Night when he saw everyone at Harry’s on New Year’s Eve. Everyone immediately assumed it had something to do with the game they would be playing, though there were differing opinions as to what exactly it might be. Anthony was hoping for another moving parts type of game, similar to Mouse Trap, while Theo was vehemently wishing for something that had to do with Dungeons and Dragons. The lanky brunette’s dream came true as Dean brought out a box with the title “Battlesystem” on it.

The dark-skinned Gryffindor launched into an explanation of the expansion to the original game, and what the running of fantasy battles would entail. While the witches in the group were keen to learn, the wizards were practically on the edge of their seats, ready to jump in as soon as Dean gave the go-ahead. It was rather comical to see them getting so excited about the intricacies of this imaginary world, and obvious that they took it all very seriously.

Hannah set up her pieces fairly quickly, as did Hermione and Daphne, and Luna simply let Theo handle all of that and relegated herself to the task of providing moral support whenever he made a big decision. The four young ladies settled into animated conversation about their plans for the new millennium and laughed about how weird it was not to write nineteen ninety-anything on papers or letters anymore.

“I’d really like to create a small spring line of robes for the shop,” Daphne told her friends, who all responded with great support for the idea.

“I’m hoping to finish cleaning out the storage spaces at the Leaky. I had no idea there were so many cupboards and closets. My great-uncle has a wonderful habit of stashing random items anywhere he can find. I came across a crate of pumpkin juice under a bed in one of the rooms upstairs that I’m pretty sure was at least fifty years old,” Hannah shuddered at the memory of the sludge-like contents. “I tossed the whole lot without even telling him. He doesn’t even know what he’s got hidden around there!”

“Theo and I are planning to document the nesting patterns of Augureys across Northern Europe and compare the differences based on their locations,” Luna added her thoughts to the discussion, “And I’m hoping we’ll get a chance to track the Mooncalfs in North America; their wheat field patterns are supposed to be some of the most intricately designed in the world.”

Though none of her friends were one hundred percent certain what the ethereal blonde was talking about, they nodded encouragingly and agreed that a trip to the states sounded like a terrific adventure.

“How about you, Hermione?” Daphne asked the curly-haired witch.

“Honestly, I just want to get through the Kelpie herd situation,” she huffed a wry laugh, “This is my first major assignment, and my first international endeavor, so I’m more than a little nervous. I think if it goes well, I’ll be more relaxed about the next one, but right now,” she grimaced and shook her head, “Trying to pace myself and not get bogged down with all the things that could possibly go wrong.”

“You’ll do brilliantly!” Hannah exclaimed, a sweet smile on her face as she tried to bolster her friend’s confidence.

“Yes, if anyone can sort it out, it’s the Brightest Witch of our Age,” Daphne winked at her and flashed a knowing smirk as Hermione fake-scowled at the moniker.

“I would love to see a herd of Kelpies,” Luna added dreamily, “Once it’s all sorted, maybe you could share the location? I know they’re usually very secretive and elusive, but since you’re keeping an eye on their boundaries…”

Hermione had no idea if the Kelpies were, in fact, intentional about remaining hidden from view the majority of the time, or if it just happened to be a product of living in deep waters far away from any coastline. Regardless, she didn’t think there were any laws regarding telling other magical folks the whereabouts of a herd, especially since she knew Luna would only want to observe the creatures, and promised to pass the info along once it was all settled.

“Are you ladies done chit-chatting? We’ve got a campaign going on here!” Theo hollered from his spot on the floor at the edge of the low table, where he insisted he had the best view of the board.

“Oh, yes, by all means,” Daphne snorted, “Far be it from us to keep you from plotting against the Git-yanks.”

“Gith-yan-kis,” Theo drawled with superiority, “And we’ve moved on from that at the moment and are currently staging a battle between Frost Giants and Fire Giants.”

“What about our formations, though?” Anthony interjected, “We haven’t finished discussing those, or the terrain effects.”

“I would like to plot out the route through Greyhawk,” Draco added, “So we know where we’re headed before we start riling up our enemies.”

The five wizards sank back into their discussion and their female counterparts waited roughly ten seconds before returning to their own, completely separate conversation, exchanging eye-rolls and knowing smirks as they did. When the game actually resumed, the girls participated with due diligence, but during lengthy discussions about treasure-counting, battle plans, and skill levels (which occurred almost more often than actual turns were taken), they continued to catch up with one another.

Much later, Dean suggested they pause the game until the next morning, which was only a handful of hours away as it was, and even Theo had to agree it was time to turn in. Sleepy ‘goodnights’ were called to one another, and everyone drifted off to their own quarters at a shuffling pace that belied their drowsy state. Draco, as always, walked Hermione to her room and wrapped her in a firm embrace just inside the threshold.

“You enjoying the game, then?” she teased him, having heard his impassioned speech about bonus actions at one point.

“I really am,” he chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I can see why Muggles get so caught up in this game, especially since they don’t even know magic exists.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hermione laid her cheek against his chest and let her eyes drift shut, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her and the familiar thrum of his heartbeat under her ear.

“Dean was saying people actually dress up as their characters and go to these events – conventions, I think he called them – and they can interact with other players and see new products,” Draco continued enthusiastically.

“Mmhmm,” Hermione hummed from within his hold, pleased to know he was having such a good time with it, but not really having the energy to voice anything more.

A low rumble sounded as he chortled, “You’re about to fall asleep standing here. Come on.” He walked her backwards towards her bed and gently disentangled himself as she sat down on the plush mattress. She smiled up at him through heavily-lidded eyes and barely stifled a yawn as he leaned down to kiss her, causing them both to snigger.

“See you in the morning, love,” he said as he headed out the door. He glanced back over his shoulder to see her wrapping the blanket over herself, still fully clothed, and snuggling down till all he could see was the top of her head and her already-closed eyes. Smiling to himself, he closed the door quietly and made his way back to his own room where he planned to do exactly the same thing.

ooOoo

When Hermione shuffled out of her chamber the next morning, still fighting sleep and not at all ready to appear functional, she was brought up short by the sight of all five of the male members of their former house already crowded around the coffee table, deep in animated conversation. Moving a little closer, she saw they all had plates piled high with food, and steaming mugs of tea and coffee within arms’ reach from wherever they’d hunkered down – either on chairs that had been scooted close to the edge, or on the floor.

She hadn’t even noticed that breakfast had already been laid out on the long table, and inhaled a deep, appreciative breath as the smell of bacon, pancakes, and sausage filled the air.

“Had a bit of a lie-in, did we?” Theo snarked at her, jolting her out of her still-drowsy state. His comment caused the others to look her way, and she could tell by the twitch of Draco’s lips and the mirth dancing in his eyes that her hair must look a fright, not to mention the fact that she was still in yesterday’s clothes.

“How long have you all been up?” she honestly couldn’t bring herself to care about her current appearance, especially since, upon closer inspection, all the boys seemed to be in either loungewear or pajamas, and none seemed to have done anything with their hair either. Both Dean and Anthony had knit beanies on, Neville’s was sticking up in random places, Theo’s looked like he’d slept on one particular spot all night, and Draco’s… well, Draco’s did, of course, look perfect. She huffed with indignation.

“Oh, hours and hours,” the lanky brunette drawled, “Before the sun was even up. We’re very committed to this campaign, you see, unlike _some_.” His dark eyes fixed on her, a brow arched in mock accusation.

“Yeah, says the one we had to drag out of bed twenty minutes ago,” Anthony smacked Theo in the arm and earned himself a scowl.

“You know, for someone so insistent we continue this game first thing, you _were_ the last one out here,” Draco pointed out.

Theo sniffed with great superiority, “Yes, well, my formidable brain needed a thorough respite before being put through such rigorous use again.”

“It wasn’t your formidable brain we had to peel off Luna,” Neville taunted and was rewarded with his friend’s cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of pink as he stammered and stuttered for a handful of seconds before straightening himself up as much as he could from his spot on the carpet and looking smugly at each of them.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have your own perfect, witch-shaped pillows.”

The groans and snorts and sounds of protest that immediately met his challenge were enough to send Hermione giggling off to the girls’ lavatory, shaking her head along the way.

Not long after, the rest of the witches drifted out of their rooms and over to the table, where they gathered at one end and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and several cups of something warm, while the wizards continued their game.

“So, who’s playing for us?” Daphne gestured to Hermione and herself, and then to Hannah as well.

“Good question,” Hannah replied and then hollered over at the boys, “Hey! Who took over for our characters? Or are you just leaving them out, now?”

“Oh, well, Draco took Hermione and Daphne’s for his own, and let Neville have their shared one, and Anthony and I have been sort of sharing Hannah and Padma’s,” Dean explained with a sheepish grin. “But you all can come back anytime you want!”

The girls thanked him and turned back to their conversation, laughing lightly and wondering exactly how long the game could possibly go on.

“We do have our Second Years coming this afternoon,” Hermione said, “So at the very least they’ll have to pause it again if they haven’t reached the end.”

“What are we doing with them?” Luna asked, but her curly-haired friend had no idea.

“Dean didn’t say. All I know is that it’s not a board game, or a card game,” she shrugged.

“Maybe something more like musical chairs? A game that requires full-body participation?” Hannah suggested.

“I bet it is,” Daphne replied confidently, “It’s been awhile since we’ve done anything like that.”

As it often does, time passed rather quickly while they all continued to sit around enjoying one another’s company, and doing absolutely nothing of significance. It seemed mere minutes had passed when Hermione happened to glance at the clock on the mantle and realized they had less than an hour before their young friends would arrive. The game had come to a dramatic, victorious end shortly after midday, with Dean awarding the others their very own minifigures to keep as tokens. The board and pieces had barely been put back in the box when Theo was already asking about a new game, using a different location and story, and peppering Dean with questions about all things Dungeons and Dragons related.

“You know, I think it might be inaccurately titled, though,” Theo was saying to no one in particular as he sank down onto the couch beside Luna, “I mean, it’s not just cellars and lizards.” He winked at Hermione who was about to correct him and she snorted and rolled her eyes as he grinned smugly and continued. “It could be called ‘Quests and Campaigns,’ or ‘Worlds of Adventure,’ or any number of things.”

“Yes, but this was what the creators settled on, so unless you plan to get a petition going to change the name of a game that’s been around for over thirty years – and has quite a dedicated following, I might add – you’ll just have to tolerate it,” Dean retorted with good-natured snark.

“I suppose,” Theo let out a theatrical sigh.

“Are the Seconds having dinner with us?” Daphne asked, realizing that no plans had been made for the late-day meal.

“Actually,” Draco cleared his throat and cast a mildly wary glance around the group, “I’ve had several requests for _us_ to join _them_ in the Great Hall, and I thought perhaps we could do that tonight.” Normally, the recent graduates kept to themselves during their weekends at the castle, and their young charges simply spent the better part of Sunday with them in their former dormitory. This was definitely a change in the pattern, but no one seemed to mind in the slightest.

Neville was nodding along, “Too right. Every time they’re in the same greenhouse with me, I get bombarded with that very thing.”

“Why do they want us to eat with them there?” Anthony was perplexed, though not opposed to the idea.

“I think partly because it would be something new, and partly because they get to show us off,” Draco admitted with a wry grin. “It’s still a bit of a novelty, yeah? Having mentors is a relatively new concept at Hogwarts, and having us in particular,” he gestured to his friends as a whole, “Is an even bigger deal to them.”

“I can understand that,” Theo drawled, “I’m quite impressive. Always have been.” His pronouncement was cut short by a pillow, tossed by Neville, landing in his face.

“So, we’ll plan to do that after the game, then, yeah?” Hermione asked and everyone nodded. She turned to Draco, “Do you want to go right at the beginning, or towards the end?”

“I think towards the end will be better. With it being Sunday, most of the students tend to eat earlier, so there will be more tables available if we wait a bit.”

Just as he finished, there was a knock on the tall, double doors, and they knew their young friends had arrived. Smiling excitedly, they all made their way over to greet the boisterous, happy crowd that tumbled over the threshold. As usual, all twenty-two of them came at the same time, so there were several minutes of frenzied greetings, exuberant hugs, and making sure everyone had been seen and accounted for. Once the dust settled, Dean hollered to get their attention.

“Alright, who here has ever played hide-and-seek?” Virtually everyone raised their hand, mentors and Second Years alike. He grinned at them, “Fantastic. We’re not playing that, though.” A rumble of disappointment flowed through the gathered group but he was quick to continue explaining his plan, “We’re going to play the opposite; a game called ‘Sardines.’ Anyone ever heard of that one?” This time, only Hermione and Hannah raised their hands from the older crew, and roughly a half dozen of the younger ones raised theirs. Dean looked positively delighted as he prepared to explain the rules, but Theo cut him off.

“Aren’t those the salty, little fish on pizza?” he asked.

“No, those are anchovies,” Hermione corrected him, “Sardines are bigger and come packed still in one piece, tightly together in a tin.”

“So we’re playing with fish in a tin?” Theo’s brow furrowed.

“No!” Hannah exclaimed, laughing, “There’s no actual fish in the game!”

“But are we ordering pizza?” he recovered from his confusion quickly and wiggled his brows conspiratorially and all the Seconds laughed.

“No, no pizza today,” Dean brought the focus back to the point, “Sardines, like I was saying, is the opposite of hide-and-seek. In this game, one person goes and hides, while everyone else counts. Then, everyone goes off to find that one person. If you find them, you join them in their hiding spot. When a second “finder” comes along, they join as well, and so on, until only one person is left searching, and then they’re “It” for the next round. Got it?” He allowed a minute or so to pass as the students and mentors contemplated this information before imparting the last bit.

“One rule: no magic. That means, no silencing spells, no concealment, no enlarging of any tight spaces, nothing. I’m actually tempted to make you all leave your wands here on the table,” he glanced down at the polished surface, and before he could even firmly decide if that was the best way to go about it, a bunch of the Second Years rushed forward to do just that. Eventually, everyone’s wand wound up on the table, even the so-called adults, who wanted to be good sports about all of it, except for Dean in case he needed to use his during the course of the game to get their attention or fix a problem.

“What happens if there really isn’t any more room?” Hermione asked, “For example, if the person hiding decides to stand in a closet and eventually there isn’t any room left for anyone else, but there are still players…” Her question trailed off. She knew how the game worked, but the majority of the people around her did not.

“You have to hide as close to the original spot as possible,” Dean nodded appreciatively in her direction as he answered. “So, in the same room, or in roughly the same vicinity. Any other questions?”

“Who gets to hide first?” Christopher piped up from the middle of the cluster.

“Hmmm,” Dean considered the easiest way to sort that out, “Anyone have a birthday this week?” All heads shook in the negative, so he asked about the following week, and Malcolm raised his hand, a tiny smirk on his face.

“Well, soon as we’re out the door, you can hide wherever you want – just don’t touch any personal belonging in the individual bedrooms. You’ll have one minute.”

With that, their resident game leader instructed everyone to venture back out into the corridor, and once the doors closed firmly, the countdown began. When time was up, the doors were opened and everyone made their way back in, much more quietly than they had left, as Dean had reminded them that the whole point was to not be the one person left at the end, so you didn’t want to give away the hiding spot.

They broke off in pairs and trios, tiptoeing around the vast space, peeking behind furniture and around doors. At first, the Second Years were cautious about even entering their mentors’ rooms, but as the game went on, they were far less timid.

Malcolm had chosen to hide under Draco’s bed and was found rather quickly by Theo, Aiden, and Rory. The four wizards fit comfortably, side by side on the floor, and carried on a friendly, whispered conversation for several minutes before approaching footsteps forced them to clamp their mouths shut. They watched through the inch of space between the edge of the duvet and the floor, and saw two pairs of feet stop in the doorway. Murmuring was heard, but they couldn’t make out discernable words or voices. Slowly, the witches (for they clearly were based on their choice of footwear) entered the room and began systematically searching every nook and corner of the chamber. The concealed crew under the bed was just about to breathe a collective sigh of relief as the searchers edged their way back towards the door, but in a flash, the intruders dropped to their knees and flipped up the edge of the blanket, revealing their surprised quarry.

Allison and Darla were beaming, obviously proud of themselves for being only the second batch to find the boys, and wasted no time scooting under the bed alongside them.

“Budge up, we need to fit!” Allison whispered as she wiggled her way in between Rory and Malcolm.

“I don’t think anyone else will be able to fit under here with us,” Aiden remarked, seeing as how Darla was all the way at the end, and he was all the way at the wall, with no room to move further.

“Then they’ll just have to find other spots in here,” Theo smirked, “Glad you picked this one, Malcolm. Much more comfortable than squatting behind a chair or standing behind a curtain.” To prove his point, Theo propped his chin on his crossed arms and closed his eyes as if ready to fall asleep. The beds were wide enough that even his lanky frame was completely hidden from head to foot without him having to scrunch up at all.

“I think someone’s coming,” Darla whispered frantically and then clapped a hand over her mouth before nervous giggles could spill out.

True enough, three more pairs of feet appeared in the doorway, pausing for a beat or two before continuing on into the room and checking in all the usual spots. Eventually, one pair of trainers stopped in front of Rory and a second later, the duvet edge was lifted, revealing Hannah’s smiling face.

“Found them!” she whispered to her cohorts, who turned out to be one of her Second Years, Lisette, and one of Luna’s, Yasmine. All three of the girls stifled chuckles as they took in the crew of five now under Draco’s bed before dropping the blanket and muttering to each other about where they should hide. The two younger girls opted to go behind one of the curtains, while Hannah sat in the corner beside the dresser, her knees pulled up to her chin so she was hidden from direct view of the doorway.

And so it continued, until roughly ten minutes later, not only were the five under the bed still there, but each curtain housed three people, the chair hid two, Daphne had squeezed in next to Hannah, Neville was plastered to the wall on the other side of the bookshelf with Andrew and Christopher next to him, Anthony and one of his mentees, Erik, were behind the door, and six other players were piled on the bed, including Hermione and Luna, the hangings now closed around them. With only five people still searching, they knew it was a matter of time. Sure enough, Dean came barreling into the room and flung himself on the floor on the far side of the bed, closely followed by another student. Draco was the last of the older participants to arrive and let out a low chuckle as he took in his bedroom, with the lumpy drapes glimpses of shoes peeking out everywhere. He simply joined Dean on the floor and everyone waited with baited breath for the last seekers to arrive.

It was a pair of girls, Emmeline and her friend, Margot, who announced their presence with a huff of exasperation and exclamations of “but we looked in here!”

“Not well enough, obviously,” said Theo as he flipped the duvet up and revealed the gang under the bed, where Malcolm was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“So you two are the hiders this time,” Dean told them, and the young witches seemed very glad to know they could go together. “We’re going to up the ante a little, though,” he held up a forefinger to stall everyone from leaving the room, “Now that you lot know how to play, we’re going to do it the real way.” With that, he waved his wand and all the sconces and candles throughout the entire dormitory were snuffed out, leaving only the fading sunlight coming in the mullioned windows to illuminate their way.

“Ooooooh,” came the general response, followed immediately by a mad stampede for the door, leaving Draco standing in his now rather rumpled-looking room. He huffed and quickly tugged the bedspread to smooth it out, pulled back the hangings, and fluffed the pillows. He nodded firmly and turned to find Hermione standing in the doorway, a knowing smirk quirking her lips and her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Oh, like you’d leave yours a mess, either,” he snarked and swooped down to kiss her briefly before they followed the rest of their friends back out into the corridor.

Round after round they played, with the hiders becoming more and more creative each turn. As the Room grew darker with the setting sun, it made it easier to hide, and more difficult to make out what was a person versus a piece of furniture. One of the funniest rounds involved Luna curling up under the coffee table in the center of the common area; a spot everyone walked by repeatedly but never really glanced at, assuming it was too visible for anyone to choose as a hiding place. By the end of that round, everyone was just draped across the chairs and couches and laying on the floor next to her, and the only reason Neville wound up being “it” was because he was the last one standing when a large group of seekers happened upon the location.

The longest round, and the one that actually ended the game, was the only one that no one was able to find the original hider during. One of Dean’s Second Years, a Hufflepuff by the name of Liam, had decided to hide in the actual fireplace. By climbing up just high enough to be out of view, he’d braced himself with his back against one side of the stone column, and his feet against the other, and stayed like that for a full twenty minutes while his classmates and friends grew increasingly more frantic as they searched. Finally, Dean stood in the middle of the Room and bellowed for Liam to show himself, because he’d clearly won and stumped them all. After a beat or two, a slight scrabbling was heard from the hearth, and all of a sudden a pair of legs appeared beneath the mantle.

Everyone cheered loudly and applauded his performance, and there were many high-fives and back-slaps given, though Hermione gave him a stern talking-to about the dangers of playing in a chimney.

“What if we’d started a fire? You’d have been burned to a crisp!”

Liam just gave her a cheeky grin and said he was counting on the Room’s magic to realize he was there, which only served to exasperate her further, and amuse everyone else.

Of course, as a prize, he was awarded a tin of sardines, which Theo demanded to be allowed a close look at, and Liam promised they could crack it open at dinner, which was precisely where they all headed off to in one, big, happy group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to LOVE playing Sardines with groups of friends! This was just a fun chapter showing more interactions between the graduates, and their continued connection to their younger counterparts. I hope everyone's week has been treating them kindly. <3


	54. Stupid Cupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day is fast approaching and secret surprises are in the air!

Valentine’s Day would soon be upon them, and everyone seemed to be in a bit of a tizzy about it, regardless of how long they’d been together, or how new their relationship was, or how solidified or casual things were. In some cases, those who’d previously thought the holiday to be frivolous nonsense were now positively terrified of mucking the whole thing up by purchasing the wrong flowers, or signing the card incorrectly. On the other hand, some who had several years of hearts and poems under their belts were struggling to find new, romantic ways to express themselves. And all of them were slowly realizing that since they were now “adults,” the simpler offerings like sweets and picture frames weren’t really up to snuff on their own.

As a result, Hermione was in a right state one night at dinner with Harry. He’d entered the kitchen at the normal time, expecting to find Kreacher busy at the stove, and assuming his best friend was still at work since he hadn’t heard her up in her room across the hall from his. Instead, he found the curly-haired witch already at the table, which was covered with a wide variety of magazines, newspapers, paint, brushes, a bowl of grey, lumpy water, deflated balloons, and what appeared to be a papier-mache figure… a turkey, perhaps… or a rabbit. He wasn’t sure, but what he did know was that Hermione was clearly frazzled, as she was nibbling her lower lip while rifling randomly through a magazine, her wand stuck in the messy bun on top of her head.

“Alright, then?” he asked cautiously and she startled slightly at the sound of his voice, not having noticed his arrival.

“Oh! Harry! Yes, I’m fine, I’m just… just…” she scrubbed her hands over her face and plopped down in the chair behind her, “I don’t know what I’m doing, actually.” She slumped back and scowled at the mess in front of her, waving a hand over it in an irritated fashion, “I’m trying to figure out Draco’s Valentine’s present.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry glanced around again and caught Kreacher’s eye as the Elf brought cutlery and napkins to the cleared end of the table. The wizened being gave the smallest shrug and shake of his head before turning back to grab the plates and Harry had to stifle a laugh. Bringing his attention back to the witch beside him, he tried to make sense of what he was looking at.

“So, umm, are you making him a… a peacock?” He figured that would be a safe guess, since the Malfoys used to own some as pets, though he knew those had been white and the thing across the table was bright red.

“A what?” Hermione looked around and when her gaze landed on the work-in-progress being referred to, she flung her head back and groaned towards the ceiling, “No! That’s supposed to be a dragon!”

Harry didn’t know how to respond. The lumpy, crimson wad looked nothing like any part of a dragon he’d ever seen (and he’d seen a few, mind), but he really didn’t want to make her feel any worse than she clearly already did. He tried for vague interest.

“Oh. Right, then. So, is it part of another gift? Or…” he knew he was rubbish at this sort of thing, and the longer he tried not to, the harder it was to keep from laughing at just how _bad_ the so-called dragon looked. It was honestly nothing more than a mound of shiny, red, wrinkled paper that sort of tapered down at one end, to what he assumed was the snout, and had wonky, little flaps sticking up towards the top that were probably supposed to be ears.

“Ugh, it’s horrid,” the Golden Girl huffed and glowered at the offending craft failure. “It’s supposed to represent the costume he wore last year for Halloween, and since it was red, I was going to tie it in to his Valentine’s present, but it’s useless.” With a flick of her wand everything on the table disappeared, save for the dinner Kreacher had now laid out at the other end. “Where’s Daphne when I need her creative genius?” she bemoaned.

Harry allowed himself a low chuckle as he took his usual seat catty-cornered to his best friend, and Kreacher magicked everything down to them. “Will you get to see him on the fourteenth? Or are you just sending stuff to each other?”

“Well, I was hoping to go up there Sunday, just for the day, and was thinking maybe we could have a nice dinner at the Three Broomsticks or something, but he said he has several meetings and patrol duty that night, so…” she trailed off, her disappointment evident.

"You’ll be up there the following weekend, right? For your regular Game Night?”

“Yes, and I suppose we could celebrate then, somehow, but everyone else will be there, too, and we don’t normally go off on our own,” she shrugged. “I was trying to come up with something fun and meaningful to send him, but you saw how well that worked out.”

The raven-haired wizard smirked to himself, knowing a little bit more about Draco’s Valentine’s plans than Hermione did, but didn’t give anything away as he continued, “You could always knit him a scarf or something.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, earning himself a snort and a giggle in response.

“Yes, because my knitting skills have gotten so much better over the years,” Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. “I didn’t want to do something predictable, like sweets or trendy trinkets, but I’m afraid I’m going to get stuck doing just that. I did get him the new book from Tessa Merrythought, but I just wanted to put something else, something, I don’t know, _special_ with it.” Her voice had taken on a slightly petulant tone, which was very unusual for the typically no-nonsense witch, and Harry felt a little guilty for keeping secrets from her, but he’d given his word and wasn’t about to break it.

Instead, he tried a different tact, “Tessa Merrythought? Who’s that?”

“Oh, she’s related to Galatea Merrythought. You know, the author of the Defense textbooks?”

“Ah, right.”

“I think Tessa is her great-niece, or even great-great-niece,” Hermione mused, “Anyway, she’s continued her ancestor’s work and has written several books about the subject, though not as texts for classrooms, but more from a personal interest standpoint. Draco has her first two, but her newest one isn’t even in stores yet.” She looked rather pleased with herself for it as she explained, “I was in Flourish and Blotts last week and saw a poster with the release date, and made a comment about how I would love to get a copy in time for Valentine’s Day, and the clerk told me to ‘wait right there’ while she ran off to the back. She returned with a still-wrapped copy of it and handed it to me; refused to let me pay for it, but just made me promise not to tell anyone I had it before the official release.”

“See, it pays to be famous,” Harry smirked.

“Mmmm, I suppose,” she shrugged, though a smile tugged at her lips. Wanting to shift the subject off herself for a time, she posed a question to her friend instead, “What are you and Ginny doing for Valentine’s?”

“Honestly, nothing big. I mean, how do you follow up a proposal? We decided we’d just go for a nice dinner and not do any gifts or anything. I’m still getting her flowers, but those don’t count,” he huffed, “I’m just glad she’ll be in town for it. We weren’t sure what her schedule would be, but the Harpies are still in training drill season, so their routine is more relaxed.”

“Where will you go? You know you’ll be swamped with reporters.”

“That’s precisely why we’re going to a Muggle restaurant,” he grinned smugly. “Dudley and I have done a bit of scouting the past couple of weeks when we’ve met for pints. We always go somewhere new, so I told him I wanted to see if there were any nice spots nearby. Last Monday, we went to Two Brewers, which is about a block and a half away from The Ivy. I recognized it when we were heading for the apparition point.”

“The Ivy… Is that one of the places you got a certificate for Bill and Fleur?”

“Yeah. It’s rather posh, but I thought it’d be fun to go, so I rang the next day and got a reservation. I think Ginny will get a kick out of watching all the Muggles.”

“That’s brilliant, Harry,” she beamed at him and then a wistful look crossed her face. “I wish I could do something like that for Draco, but he’s still restricted by his probation.”

“Only for another year and a half,” he said bracingly, “It’ll fly by, and then you can introduce Malfoy to all the wonders of the non-magical world.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped at the thought of Draco in the middle of the noisy, crazy, traffic-filled heart of London.

“You’ve just given me an idea, Harry,” Hermione sat bolt upright in her chair, her eyes gleaming, her entire demeanor one of excited intensity.

“I’m so glad,” he sniggered, having no idea what he’d said that she’d taken and run with, but happy to have helped nonetheless.

ooOoo

While Harry and Hermione were enjoying dinner at Grimmauld, Ron was frantically pacing in front of the counter at the joke shop while his brothers (both in human and portrait form) watched with more than mild amusement.

“She’s not like other girls! I can’t just get her a box of chocolates and a bunch of roses and be done with it!” He was carding his fingers through his ginger locks to the point where they almost looked as messy as Harry’s.

“I bet she’s not really all that different,” George drawled from his spot, leaning against the counter where the receipts and sales counts from the day were spread before him.

“She just wants to know that you’ve thought about her,” Fred added from where he lounged in the chair in his frame.

“You do know who Pansy Parkinson is, right?” Ron demanded, stopping abruptly and glaring at the twins for a moment before resuming his manic steps. “She’s… she’s gorgeous, and rich, and always had the best of everything. Like a girl Malfoy. She was the bloody Slytherin Princess! Her family has one of the largest vaults at Gringotts, and one of the biggest estates in Britain. What could I possibly get her that could compete with any of that?”

George and Fred exchanged a look and a nod and launched into their own side conversation while their younger brother continued to wear a path on the hardwood floor.

“Let’s think a moment, shall we, Fred?” asked George.

“Yes, we shall,” replied Fred.

“Pansy Parkinson… hmmm…”

“Prissy little thing, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, rich, and fashionable. Quite snobbish, too.”

“Not quite so rich these days, though. I heard her mother had to turn over most of their assets after the war, once her father was sentenced to Azkaban.”

“Too right. They even sold off their estate. Moved to the London townhouse they kept for shopping trips.”

“Oooh, where did you hear that?”

“Those old biddies back before Christmas who were buying stuff for their grandkids. That was the day Miss Parkinson came in, but she and ickle Ronnikins were so caught up in themselves, they didn’t hear the gossip.”

“Probably a good thing.”

“Absolutely. Thought they were being all sneaky, whispering about the girl while she was just across the shop. Said they heard Pansy’s mother was filing for divorce and that she was getting rid of almost everything connected with her worthless husband.”

“I bet it was no picnic, growing up with a Voldemort supporter for a father.”

“Probably not. Her mother isn’t exactly the warm, loving type either. I remember mum talking about her.”

“All the money in the world can’t buy happiness.”

“That it can’t, my good sir. Truly, I think people just want to be accepted and appreciated for who they are.”

“It would probably mean a great deal to her, to know someone had thought about her and wanted to do something nice for her.”

“Make her feel special, yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” hummed Fred, who then glanced down to see Ron had stopped pacing and was listening to their exchange with rapt attention. “Hello, can we help you?”

“You really think she’d be happy with something… something less expensive, or impressive, or whatever?” he asked with skeptical hope etched across his face.

“I do,” George nodded firmly, “I think Pansy would be thrilled if you simply showed her you care about her and enjoy spending time with her.”

“Not for nothing, but you do have quite a bit more galleons now than you used to,” interjected Fred, “So maybe spend a bit, but not on anything typical like jewelry or chocolates.”

Ron stood there for a few beats, his wide blue eyes darting between his brothers as he considered their advice. Finally, he straightened up, took a deep breath, nodded once, and strode towards the door with a hearty “ _thanks_ ” tossed over his shoulder as he left.

The door clanged shut, the bell jingling over it, and the twins smirked widely at each other.

“Glad we sorted that out, yeah?” George snarked.

“Oh, sure. Solving the world’s problems one day at a time,” Fred replied. Both red-heads chortled and shook their heads as George returned to his work, bouncing ideas off his brother as he went.

ooOoo

Up at the castle, Draco was more than a little pleased with himself for the plan he’d set in place for Hermione’s Valentine’s Day surprise. While his younger self might have pitched an unholy fit at the very idea of asking the Boy Who Lived for help in any way, shape, or form, his present self had absolutely no qualms about it whatsoever. Harry was his friend now, no doubt about it, and he wasn’t even the tiniest bit shy about asking for a bit of assistance the last time they’d met, especially since he’d helped the newly-engaged wizard hash out his own plans for his proposal to Ginny weeks before.

His agenda had several steps to it, and had taken quite a bit of maneuvering and plotting and rather advanced magic, but if the end result was what he envisioned, it would be worth all the time it took. He just hoped that Hermione stuck to her normal routine that day, seeing as the holiday would fall on a Monday, and was counting on her innate need to follow a schedule in order for it to carry out.

His bedroom looked a bit like a tacky window display at the moment, with all the red and pink and flowers and hearts, but he only had to put up with it for a few more days. He’d loathed lying to her about his meetings on Sunday, but he hoped she’d forgive him when it was all said and done. He knew his favorite witch didn’t care about expensive gifts or ostentatious gestures, so he’d tried to keep it simple, yet meaningful, and only spent about a third of what he really wanted to (and was sure she’d be appalled at that amount anyway).

He grinned to himself as he paused near his desk and looked at the picture frame she’d given him last year. The photograph of herself, out in the snow, making a heart with her wand as it trailed white-gold sparks that left a fleeting outline before the loop played again. Words could not express how thoroughly and completely the petite brunette owned his heart; how incredibly happy he was to have her in his life; how thankful he was to have been given the chance to get to know her and love her. He felt like an utter sap as he gazed down at her beautiful face and didn’t even try to staunch the sigh that escaped his lips. If turning into a wistful, mushy, romantic sod was the price for falling in love with the Golden Girl, it was one he was happy to pay.

Now he just had to get through the next few days, all his lessons, meetings, rounds, and other staff-related duties, before he could focus all his attention on the surprise he had in store for his girlfriend. One additional item to be checked off his list was that of his weekly meeting with Harry, which was due to start in…

_Knock, knock._

Smirking to himself, Draco made his way across his small sitting area and opened the door, revealing the very wizard he’d just been calling to mind.

“Potter,” he stepped aside with a friendly grin, granting entrance to the Bespectacled One.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry replied with an equally amiable smile.

Settling into their respective spots; Draco on the couch and Harry in the over-stuffed armchair; they quickly ran through the Ministry-mandated questions before moving on to more interesting topics. After several minutes, Draco could tell his guest was hedging towards something and had a pretty good idea of what it might be, based on the slowly-growing grimace that had appeared on his face over the last several seconds.

“So, what’s the news from Azkaban?” the tall blonde offered, seeing no reason to prolong the inevitable.

Harry sighed and shook his head, his expression clearly apologetic and reluctant, “It’s…it’s not good, Malfoy, I’m sorry.” He paused for a beat before continuing, “As of Monday, every member of the Inner Circle was moved to the hospital wing, due to the fact that none of them are able to stand, walk, or eat unassisted any longer.” He stopped again, this time to give his friend time to digest his words.

As usual, Draco’s face revealed almost nothing. Aside from the clenching of his jaw and the rigid set of his shoulders, one might almost think he hadn’t heard anything that was said, but Harry knew better. He could tell from the distant, almost glassy look in those pewter eyes that his mind was far from the cozy room they were in, and the cold, stiff demeanor he exuded belied the inner turmoil he was currently experiencing. The young Auror simply sat and let him take his time, knowing that there was really nothing for it, and that Draco just needed to come to terms with it.

After a short while, Draco heaved a deep sigh of his own, and his stoic mask had shifted to reveal a weary and worn countenance that spoke of a burden far too heavy for one so young.

“My mother?” was all he asked.

Harry nodded, “Kingsley has managed to grant her permission for one visit. In fact, I just went to see her and tell her that before coming here. I’m sure you’ll be receiving an owl with similar news in the near future.” He studied his former enemy for a moment before broaching what he knew was a very sensitive subject, “Kingsley has also granted permission for you to go, as well, if you wanted to.” He let that hang between them for a substantial length of time, having literally watched Draco’s expression shift back to one of icy indifference as he considered the offer set before him.

“How long does he have?” his tone was blank.

Dark brows furrowed as the next piece of news was imparted, “I’m not entirely sure. The mediwizard in charge of their care said it could be another month or two. The Carrows both passed right before the holidays.” Again, silence reigned as this unwelcome, yet not wholly unexpected information was taken in.

“When does my mother wish to go?” Draco finally spoke, his first priority in all of this quite clear.

“Soon, if possible,” Harry shrugged and knew Draco understood that the “possible” part hinged on when/if he was willing to accompany her.

“How would we go about arranging that?” he asked, his tone heavy with resignation.

“You’d need to clear your absence with McGonagall, and then just let me know since I’ll be accompanying you both,” the Chosen One tried to keep his tone as light and matter-of-fact as possible. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Draco was feeling; how much he must be warring with himself over the choice in front of him. He knew there was deep anger and resentment towards Lucius, but he also knew how devoted the former Slytherin was to his mother. Narcissa had taken the news in her typically poised and reserved stride, though he could tell it was difficult for her as well.

Draco cleared this throat and nodded firmly, “I’ll wait until I hear from my mother, and then we’ll go from there. I know it probably seems rather ridiculous, but I’d like to get through Valentine’s Day before dealing with it.”

“Nah, I get it,” Harry reassured him, “Enjoy your time with Hermione on Monday, and then sort it out.”

The pale blonde flashed his former nemesis a grateful smile and huffed a wry laugh, “Never thought I’d be one to put so much effort into a ridiculous holiday.”

Green eyes rolled in commiseration, “Tell me about it. I’m taking Ginny to this posh, Muggle restaurant, which you would think would be a fairly easy undertaking, but it’s still required a bloody amount of planning.”

Draco snorted, “Hopefully they’ll both appreciate the lengths to which we’ve gone.” Both wizards chuckled and the topic shifted to other areas of common interest, the weighty news shoved aside for the time being.

Once Harry had left, Draco found himself deep in contemplation, the same series of thoughts going around and around in his brain like a tiresome carousel. On the one hand, he had absolutely no desire to go see his father and knew he would only feel relieved when the news came that he’d died. He’d spent virtually his entire life, and definitely his adolescence, trying to live up to the man’s unrealistic and completely self-serving expectations. While Lucius might have helped bring him into this world, he had not been a father in any real sense of the word; had never simply loved his son, and had chosen his own desires and gains over the safety and well-being of his only heir.

The memories of all Draco had seen, heard, and endured towards the end of Voldemort’s second existence caused his gut to roil and his temper to flare, and he felt like punching the wall or throwing something or blasting something apart. He remembered the destruction he’d wrought in his prison cell as he’d let himself succumb to the rage he’d held at bay for so long. The thought of a repeat performance was exhausting. He was definitely still angry about it, but not in the violent, all-consuming way he had been. A year and a half later, having spent the majority of that time surrounded by people who cared about him, supported him, and loved him, had made all the difference in the world.

So, no, he really had no inclination to see the man. On the other hand, however, he knew his mother would want to go, and that she would want him by her side when she did. The thought of her returning to Azkaban by herself ( _well, with Potter, but essentially alone_ ), didn’t sit well with him at all, and neither did the idea of her going through whatever emotional ordeal her visit with Lucius was sure to bring on without him. A long, weary sigh pushed past his lips and he scrubbed his face with his hands. He was going to have to go. He was going to have to face Lucius one more time. He’d known it would come to this the minute Harry told him about the odd infirmity afflicting the members of the Inner Circle. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping it would rapidly take hold, and that his father would pass before they even had the chance to visit, but his wish had been in vain. Perhaps this was his penance for even wanting that to happen.

He resigned himself to the fact that at some point in the days to come, he would have to endure this unwelcome task. However, as he’d told Harry, he wanted to focus on his time with Hermione just four days hence, and relegated all dark and weighty thoughts regarding the man who’d sired him to the back corner of his mind. Draco had always been extremely good at compartmentalizing; a skill that had only grown stronger when Snape helped him hone his Occlumency abilities; and he relied on it in situations like this when he needed to set something aside for the time being. He would deal with it next week, after he surprised his favorite witch with his ridiculously sappy and nauseatingly romantic gesture. One which he was fervently hoping she would express her appreciation for in her own exuberant, intoxicating, turn-him-into-a-pile-of-mush way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Morning and Happy Monday! I hope this week is off to a brilliant start for each of you, my wonderful readers :) In case y'all haven't figured it out by now, I love holidays - all kinds of holidays - and I'm a sucker for a sweet, thoughtful gesture. My fanciful writings are an outlet for me to channel all my creative nonsense into some fluffy moments (that may or may not be loosely based on wishful thoughts and/or personal experiences). Draco is most definitely headed for some tougher moments, but we'll come to that after his big plans for Hermione have come to fruition. Thanks so much for reading!! <3


	55. Fluff and Nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine's Day and Draco has more than one surprise for his favorite witch.

Hermione woke on February the Fourteenth with her heart just a little heavy and her normally-buoyant spirits slightly dimmed. She knew she was being melodramatic, but she had really, _really_ been hoping to see Draco at some point so they could celebrate the silly holiday in person, but alas, that was not to be. She’d been perfectly willing to visit him at the castle on Sunday, assuming his duties would be few and far between during the weekend, but his schedule had been unusually full. She’d almost offered to go up Saturday, but then Andromeda and Narcissa invited her to come for tea, and she hadn’t seen them since the Christmas break, and their insistence that Teddy kept asking for her broke her resolve.

So now she was stuck sending her boyfriend’s present by owl (Cyrene had left the day before to deliver it) and was trying to give herself a pep talk that would inspire her to get out of bed, when she heard an odd sound from somewhere nearby. Peeking out from beneath the blankets, she spotted a large, cream colored envelope, fluttering in the air just a few feet away. Knowing immediately who had sent it, her eyes prickled with tears as she recalled the way she’d woken up exactly one year ago, in the very same manner.

Sitting up, she reached out to touch the enchanted missive where it hovered and, as she’d expected, it popped open and showered her with pink and red confetti in the shape of tiny hearts. The paper bits were quickly followed by a red heart containing two words in a familiar, looping script.

_Be mine._

A watery giggle escaped as she plucked the note from the air and marveled at the magic that must have been employed to get this to her from so great a distance. Before she could ponder it further, a second envelope popped into existence right where the first one had been, though it had since floated to the floor. Again, she prodded it with her finger, and it produced another shower of confetti, and another paper heart that said,

_I love you._

This second message was immediately followed by a third.

_I miss you._

Now definitely on the verge of tears, Hermione blinked furiously and took a few deep breaths. Suddenly, a pop of color on her nightstand caught her eye and she turned to find a very large bouquet of red, pink, and fuchsia roses. A small card was tucked in among the fragrant blooms, which Hermione pulled out and read as a smile spread across her face, even while her vision was still blurry from unshed tears.

_Something pretty for the most beautiful witch I know._

Her heart swelled and she couldn’t quite tell if the sweet gesture made her happy he was thinking of her, or sad that he wasn’t able to give them to her in person. Determined to appreciate the lovely gift nonetheless, she brought the flowers to her nose and inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut in the process. When she opened them again, a fourth envelope was waiting for her attention. As the batch of confetti joined its predecessors on her duvet, another heart appeared with a short message for her.

_Can’t wait to see you._

Well, clearly she echoed Draco’s sentiment, but they weren’t due to meet up again until the Game Night the following weekend. Perhaps he intended to have a bit of a delayed Valentine’s celebration at that time? She wasn’t sure. She was still contemplating his words when a dozen heart-shaped balloons came into being at the foot of her bed, causing her jaw to drop in surprise before she collected herself and tugged the note off one of the curly ribbons.

_For the one who holds my heart._

And now she was back to tearful giddiness, unable to stifle the small sob that escaped, so moved was she by his sweet attempts to make the day special for her. She was starting to feel marginally guilty about only sending him one package, though there were multiple items in it, and she’d written a lengthy and heartfelt letter to go with it. Still, he really had gone out of his way, and she was reaching for her two-way journal to let him know she’d received his thoughtful gifts when yet another envelope popped into view.

_You are the only valentine for me._

This one was almost immediately followed by a tower of red and pink boxes, stacked on top of one another, and tied all together with a gold ribbon, settled beside her on the bed. There was a small card attached to the top box.

_Sweets for the sweetest._

She knew was inside without needing to open them, but still carefully untied the bow and removed the top box from the pile, opening it to find a selection of hand-decorated truffles. Deciding the fact that it was a holiday was a good enough excuse, she popped one in her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring the delicious raspberry cream hidden inside the dark chocolate shell. There were four other boxes in the stack, containing heart-shaped, frosted biscuits, chocolate-dipped strawberries, assorted petit-fours, and a pile of sugar quills. While she was helping herself to a pink and white iced biscuit, a sixth envelope came into view. The amount of confetti now on her bed would most likely have sent Kreacher into a catatonic state, but Hermione was much more focused on the words written on the paper heart.

_My Hermione,_

_I hope you’ve enjoyed this Valentine’s Day surprise. I wish I could be there in person to see your face, but I at least wanted you to know I was thinking of you. I love you more than I can even put into words; you have made my life better in so many ways – have made **me** better – and I will never stop being grateful for your willingness to see past my mistakes and give me a chance. You are my sweetheart today and every day. _

_I love you,_

_Draco_

By the end of the short letter, tears were trickling down her cheeks and just as she was attempting to pull herself together, a ridiculously oversized teddy bear popped into existence in the corner of her room. He sported a bright red bowtie, printed with little white hearts, and was easily the size of a ten-year-old child. A note was attached to his paw, and Hermione slid off her bed and padded across the floor to retrieve it, her face still damp, her chin still trembling.

_Since I couldn’t be there to hug you, I thought he could do it for me._

_By the way, I’ve named him Bingley._

She laughed out loud at the last part, knowing full well that Draco had never even so much as cracked the cover of any of Jane Austen’s novels, but that he’d probably asked Theo for the name of a good character. She glanced back over at the giant stuffed animal and decided to do just as her favorite wizard had suggested. Hoisting the surprisingly heavy thing up, she squeezed it to herself in a rather appropriate bear hug, and let out a sigh of both happiness and resignation. She’d dawdled long enough, and now that she was officially out of bed, she needed to get ready for the day and head into work. Smiling widely around her room, which now looked like the scene of a full-blown Valentine’s Day party, she plopped her new, furry friend in the center of her bed, and headed off to the loo.

ooOoo

Several hours later, Hermione was firmly ensconced at her desk in her office, humming a random little tune and flipping between the stack of parchment on her left, and the three large books, each open to specific pages, spread across the right side of her workspace. Every so often, her gaze would flit across the small vase of roses she’d brought along with her (the rest were still on her nightstand), and the box of sweets she’d decided would help her get through the day (which was an assortment of all the goodies found in the tower Draco had sent). Each time her eyes found the thoughtful gifts, her lips turned up in a soft smile.

Her mind was occupied with thoughts of the Kelpie herd and her recent conversations with both the Scottish and Irish government officials she’d had. Thankfully, both Ministries were approaching the situation from a standpoint of mutual concern for the magical creatures, and were happy to work together to come to a solution that would benefit the Kelpies first and foremost. While the Brightest Witch of the Age had a vast amount of knowledge in a variety of areas, she knew she didn’t know as much as she ought about the water-dwelling animals, and therefore had been devoting whatever time she could to learning about the elusive species.

She was so deep in concentration, she apparently didn’t hear her best friend knock on her doorframe the first time. Or the second, for that matter. Finally, Harry just walked in and stood directly in front of her desk and cleared his throat loudly, causing her to jump and cast wide eyes towards him.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, “What’s wrong?”

He sniggered, “Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to stop by on my way out, but you didn’t hear me knock.”

“Oh, is it that time already?” she looked at her clock and saw that it was just about four in the afternoon.

“Well, I’m taking off a bit early. Need to go home and change before getting Ginny,” he shrugged and grinned, obviously excited about his plans for the evening. “You should head out soon, too, yeah?”

She snorted indelicately, “Whatever for? It’s not like I’ve got anything exciting happening tonight.”

“What, no date with a horrifyingly large book?” Harry teased, knowing exactly what his flat-mate would be up to that evening, but playing along all the same.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, “That’s actually painfully accurate.” She gestured to the tomes beside her, “I’m bringing these home so I can continue my research, instead of moping about an empty house while most everyone else I know is enjoying a romantic evening with their significant other.”

“You won’t be alone! Kreacher’s there!” Green eyes twinkled with mirth and a chuckle escaped at the mutinous look that comment garnered. Holding his hands up in surrender, Harry took a few steps back, a kind smile on his face, “Just don’t stay here too long, yeah? There’s no point when half the place is already empty, and you can at least be comfortable back home.”

Another sigh emerged from the petite brunette, “You’re right. I won’t stay too much longer. It’s rather boring with most of my coworkers gone, and the later I’m here, the bigger the chance I run into Warrington, who is sure to make some awful comment about the fact that Draco isn’t around to take me out tonight.”

“One of these days, you really do need to bring Malfoy here, just for the fun of it,” Harry smirked, “Let him hang out all day solely to annoy the stuffing out of that prat.”

Hermione giggled and shook her head, glancing back down at her cluttered desk, amused by the mental image her friend’s words had conjured. While the wizard across the hall had drastically reduced his interactions with her over the last few months, he still took any opportunity afforded to make a snide remark about her boyfriend, or a condescending statement about Muggleborns, or witches in general. She’d learned to tune him out, but it was annoying all the same.

“Somehow I think Draco would have a little too much fun with that,” she snickered.

“What, exactly, would I have a little too much fun with?” a familiar voice drawled from the doorway, and Hermione’s eyes flew up to find the very person she’d just been talking about, leaning against the frame as if he had all the time in the world.

“Draco!” she shrieked in a way very unlike her usually-poised self, especially at work. Bolting out of her chair, she scrambled around the side of her desk and practically flung herself into his arms, which he immediately wrapped around her in a tight embrace. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and tried to calm her heart, which had taken off like a stampede of Centaurs. “What are you doing here?” her words were muffled by the collar of his cloak, but she knew he understood.

“Well, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my amazing witch spend the most romantic day of the year all alone?” he gave her a squeeze before pulling back to look her in the face. “I’m having dinner with you, of course,” the smug little smirk on his face was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen and she let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as she placed her palm on his cheek.

“What’s this for?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he wiped a lone tear that had escaped her lashes, and he was worried something was wrong, that he’d somehow misjudged things and mucked it all up.

“Nothing,” she gave a watery chortle, “I’m just happy to see you.”

Her sparkling brown eyes raked over his features, and even though she’d just seen him a few weeks prior, it felt like she was seeing him for the first time all over again – the real him. The sweet, thoughtful, wonderful man the world hardly ever encountered; the wizard who never failed to let her know how much she meant to him, or how much he loved her. She had a vague idea of what all it had taken for him to be there in person, and couldn’t begin to put her appreciation into words. Instead, she rose up on her toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, ending it sooner than she would have liked, but fully away she was still at work.

She heard a rustling behind her and turned to see Harry, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against her desk with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face.

“Harry James Potter,” she rounded on him, “You knew all about this, didn’t you?”

“Well, obviously,” he shrugged, “I am Malfoy’s court appointed liaison, after all.”

“Ugh! You knew how upset I was and you didn’t even _hint_ at anything!” a petulant scowl appeared on her face.

“I wasn’t about to spoil the surprise, Hermione,” he insisted, “Then you would’ve been mad that I ruined it, and he would have been furious with me.” He jerked his chin at the tall blonde who hadn’t yet let go of the witch in his arms, but looking between the two flat-mates with mild concern.

“You were upset?” he asked.

Feeling rather silly about how emotional the whole thing had made her, Hermione’s cheeks tinged pink as she admitted, “I was just really bummed that I wasn’t going to get to see you, especially after you said you were too busy for me to visit on Sunday.” She ducked her head, trying to hide the tears that had once again started to blur her vision. She honestly wasn’t used to being so emotional, yet something about this man did things to her she couldn’t explain.

“I’m sorry, love, I had just already put things in motion to surprise you,” Draco explained in a quiet voice as he pulled her in close and rested his cheek on her head, “But I didn’t mean to hurt you in any way.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” she marshalled herself and peered up at him, a smile blooming on her still-blushing face, “And now none of it matters, because you’re here, and I get to spend the evening with you.” She turned to Harry, a brow cocked in question, “I do get to, don’t I?”

Both wizards laughed and Harry nodded, “Yeah, he’s got clearance from McGonagall and Kingsley to stay at Grimmauld till midnight. Well, a little before, since I’ll have to bring him here to floo back to Hogwarts.”

“Perfect,” Hermione beamed at her best friend, and then up at her boyfriend who was looking rather pleased with himself. “I suppose I should pack it in, then. Call it a day?”

“That would be preferable to staying till the closing bell,” he snarked.

“Well, I really do need to go change before meeting Ginny. I might see you lot before I head out, but if not, I’ll see you when I get back later tonight,” with that, Harry nodded at the young couple and strode out the door, whistling to himself as he went down the hall.

“Give me a mo’ to tie up some loose ends,” Hermione stepped reluctantly out of Draco’s embrace and scurried around her desk. She’d been mid-sentence in her writing when everything had unfolded and her slightly anal-retentive nature couldn’t leave it that way.

“Take your time,” Draco insisted as he settled himself into one of the chairs across from her and let his gaze wander around her office. He’d never seen it in person and couldn’t help smiling as he took in the photographs and personal items she’d chosen to make the space her own. The fact that reminders of himself were the most prominent bolstered his confidence even further as he spotted several pictures, the snow globe he’d given her for her birthday, a bouquet of always-blooming roses he’d sent right after she got the job, and a few other trinkets that represented memories they’d created together, not to mention a portion of the gifts he’d sent her just that morning. It was abundantly clear to anyone who might enter her office that Hermione Granger was solidly attached to someone, and that message made his nonsensical, territorial side extremely happy.

After just a few minutes, she had finished her thoughts on paper, tidied up her desk, made notes about what she wanted to tackle first thing tomorrow, and packed up her Valentine’s Day mementos to bring back home. He was holding out her cloak for her to slip her arms in, when the door across the hall opened.

Quintus Warrington’s usually arrogant and smug face took on a shocked expression when he spotted the other Pureblood wizard in his coworker’s office. He immediately schooled his features into a cool, self-assured look as he let his narrowed eyes roam over the two people across the way.

“Thought you were still on probation, Malfoy,” he sneered, “Didn’t realize they let you out for trivial nonsense like Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes, well, good behavior, and all that,” Draco drawled lazily as Hermione shrugged into her cloak, holding back a giggle as she did so.

Warrington snorted, “It must be rather tiresome, having to get permission to do things the rest of us enjoy on the regular.” His cold stare rested on Hermione who met his glower full-on and pinned him with a fiery one of her own. “Though maybe having to space out your… activities… is a good thing. Keeps you from getting bored too quickly, I suspect.”

Hermione felt Draco bristle behind her, though the fingers that entwined with her own were exceedingly gentle.

“The only thing I’m getting bored of is you, Warrington,” there was no mistaking the ice in Draco’s tone as he turned his attention to the beautiful witch by his side, “Shall we?” He cocked his head towards the door and gave her a smile that made her knees wobble, and all she could do was nod in response while sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. She refused to even glance at Quintus as they exited her office and set off down the hall, though she was quite certain Draco had stared him down along the way. While she was more than capable of taking care of herself, and standing up to anyone who deserved it, having her boyfriend intercede for her was quite a rush. Especially since said boyfriend was so tall and handsome and imposing…

As soon as they stepped into the empty lift, Hermione pounced on him, grabbing his face with her hands and kissing him with an intensity that surprised them both. When they came to a stop in the Atrium, she huffed a small breath and gave a little shake to compose herself. Draco, on the other hand, was rooted to the spot, his eyes slowly opening, his hair in complete disarray from Hermione carding her fingers through it, his tie crooked, and his kiss-swollen lips still parted in overwhelmed bliss.

“You coming?” she had stepped out of the lift and turned to find him still standing there, looking more than a little dazed, and sniggered at the sight. “Draco? Let’s go,” she circled her hand in a ‘ _come here_ ’ manner and he finally snapped out of his stupor enough to follow her across the gleaming marble floor, directly into one of the many large fireplaces, where they vanished with a _whoosh_ of green flames.

ooOoo

The rest of Valentine’s Day was absolutely perfect, as far as Hermione was concerned. Upon arriving at Number Twelve, they found that Kreacher had set out tea and sweets for them in the drawing room, and had just settled in when Harry came bounding down the stairs on his way to get Ginny at the Burrow. Bidding him a wonderful night, which he echoed back at them in turn, they paused for a beat or two before looking at one another and releasing joint sighs of contentment, followed by a few snorts and chuckles.

“Alone at last,” Draco announced, scooting closer to Hermione on the sofa, as she angled herself into him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed happily, “So, are you going to tell me how you managed it all?”

“Managed what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her curls.

“All my gifts this morning, and getting the night off, and all of it.”

“Ah, well, I had help, as you can imagine,” he started with a smirk, “I actually sent all those letters and items home with Potter last time he and I met. I placed tempus charms on them so they would appear in your room one after another, starting as soon as you touched the first one.”

“But… but I didn’t see them anywhere! That bear is huge, Draco! How did I miss it?”

“Well, there’s this thing called magic, you know,” he yelped when his snarky comment earned him a poke in the ribs, “I shrunk them all down, woman! No need to get violent!” She giggled at his antics and snuggled in even closer as he continued, “I put everything in one box, so all he had to do was put it somewhere close by the night before and remove the shrinking charm. I think he said he was going to put them in the room below yours. He just needed to send the very first one in there to start it off this morning.”

She nodded in understanding while contemplating the steps her very creative boyfriend and her always-helpful best friend had taken to make the day special for her. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and goggled at the pale blonde, who arched a brow in question.

“Your present! Did you get it? Or will it be waiting for you when you return?”

“I did get it,” he grinned, “And I think you’re absolutely brilliant.” He leaned in a captured her lips in a kiss that set her entire being on fire, while the hand that slid around the back of her neck sent shivers down her spine. Apparently, she mused in the back of her mind, he’d really liked her gift. Along with the new book, she’d sent him a small, decorative box that was very similar to a Muggle recipe box, containing over a dozen index cards with tabs on the tops. Each tab had a title, written in her tiny, precise script that named categories such as “sports,” “music,” “art,” “food,” “movies,” and more. Many of the sections had tickets or cards in between them. For example, behind the “movie” tab was a gift card to a cinema in the heart of London, and the “music” one held tickets to the free, annual concerts that took place every summer in Regent’s Park. Her letter to him had explained that this was the start of a collection of things she wanted to experience with him as soon as he was done with his sentencing. She’d gone on to say that she planned to add to it over the next year and a half, but that she also hoped they’d keep it afterwards, continuing to build upon their shared interests and intrigues – upon their life together.

Those words had resonated deep within him, and he was mildly embarrassed by just how choked up he’d gotten over it. The fact that Hermione was thinking about a future with him; that she wanted a life with him; was more than he could have ever hoped for, and while he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would love her till the end of his days, he still sometimes worried that this would all blow up in his face eventually. He tried valiantly to keep the negative thoughts at bay, and most times he succeeded, but every once in a while, a stray bit of darkness would creep in.

_What if he got to the end of his probation and the Wizengamott decided it wasn’t enough?_

_What if something happened and they chucked him back in Azkaban?_

_What if one day, Hermione woke up and realized that a former Death Eater really wasn’t worth her time, her heart, or her reputation?_

Her letter to him that morning had done more to banish those nightmarish ideas than anything he could ever manage on his own, and he once again thanked the Founders and the Fates and anyone else who might have had a hand in it, for crossing their paths and bringing her into his life.

And now, as he sat here on the couch with her, he wasn’t sure he could express his thoughts adequately in words, and was positive if he tried he’d eventually have a full-on come-apart (which he’d rather not do), so instead, he did his best to tell her how much her thoughtful and poignant gift meant to him without words. If the tiny sighs and gasps she was making were any indication, she seemed to be getting the message loud and clear. Draco didn’t think he would ever tire of kissing Hermione; perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he didn’t get the chance to every day, but it never got old. The apricot-vanilla scent of her was intoxicating, the softness of her curves made it impossible for his hands to stay in one place for long, and the trail of sparks her fingers and lips left on his skin drove him utterly spare. He wanted nothing more than to be as close to her as possible, to savor the way her body molded to his perfectly, to lose himself in the overwhelming feelings she elicited from him.

This was exactly how Kreacher found them, over an hour later, tangled up in each other on the squashy sofa in front of the fireplace. Averting his over-large eyes, the wizened Elf cleared his throat and addressed the potted plant on the corner of the mantle, instead of the ardently-engaged couple on the couch.

“If Master and Miss would like, the first course is ready to be served,” his croaky voice yanked them out of their intimate bubble, their lips pulling apart with an audible _pop_ , their eyes comically wide as they became aware of his presence.

Sitting up with sheepish expressions on their faces, the young pair straightened their wrinkled clothing and tried to look like they hadn’t just gotten caught in a broom cupboard by a professor.

“Um, thank you, Kreacher,” Hermione finally managed to squeak out, “I think I’d like to run upstairs and freshen up first, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, Miss,” Kreacher bowed, “Take as long as you need, and let Kreacher know when you are ready.” He disappeared with a resounding _crack_.

They took one look at each other and burst out in mortified laughter. After a few false starts, they finally pulled themselves together enough to stand up and speak clearly.

“Oh, good Godric,” Hermione swiped her fingers under her eyes.

“Ugghh,” Draco coughed out an amused groan as he tried to flatten his hair, “So on that completely mood-killing note, I’m going to find the loo and make myself presentable for dinner.”

Hermione giggled and kissed him on the cheek before making her own way up to her room to do the very same thing. Skipping up the stairs, she allowed the sheer joy she’d been wrapped in, since the shock of seeing her favorite wizard in her office wore off, further permeate her soul. It was like something out of a dream, or a fairytale, or one of those incredibly cheesy, not-even-remotely-realistic, brat pack movies of the 80’s. One where the handsome, swoon-worthy boy does something totally over the top to impress the girl who thinks he’ll never look twice at her. Never in a million years did she ever think Draco Malfoy would be the one she’d fall for. Not only that, but that he would be such a softie underneath all his posh manners and impeccably dressed surface. Yet, here they were, and she couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the heart-melting, goofy-grinning, tooth-rotting sweetness! I love the two of them and how totally into each other they are. I remember the days (long, long ago) when spending time apart from the man I love was the worst thing in the world, and how every little thing that reminded me of him turned me into a weepy mess. As you are all aware, there's some heavy stuff coming up for Draco, so I wanted to give him a solid bit of happiness to hold onto before the storm arrives. Thank you so much for reading and commenting! I appreciate you all more than you know :)


	56. Bella Notte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine romance continues, Hermione hears from a friend, and Draco gets an update.

Hermione stood, glaring at her closet as if it had personally offended her. Upon reaching her room, she decided her regular work clothes weren’t quite nice enough for the occasion, and set about rummaging through her wardrobe with frantic abandon. She didn’t want to make Draco wait very long, but she was never any good about fashion, or making a statement, or any of the things Daphne was so talented with.

_That’s it. Daphne._

Channeling thoughts of her creative and stylish friend, she looked at her hangers with a more critical eye and considered the possibilities before her. She could hear the pretty witch’s voice in her head, reminding her what shapes were flattering, and what colors were best for her skin tone. She had a couple of dresses, none very fancy, but surely she could make one of them work. Pulling three from the depths of the rack, she threw them on her bed and decided to do her hair and makeup first, and worry about the outfit after.

Her hair had been in a low bun all day for work, so she tugged it loose and ran her fingers through it, working the chestnut curls into submission so they spiraled over her shoulders in a slightly less chaotic way than usual. She wasn’t a huge fan of makeup, but freshened up what she’d had on all day, and added a bit more mascara and eyeliner, as well as a clear gloss to her lips. Once the top portion of her was done, she turned her attention to the dresses she’d picked out.

There was the simple, short-sleeved black one she’d worn for the memorial service, a blue one she’d worn for graduation, and the pale green one she’d bought for her first overnight visit to the Manor at the end of the summer. She really liked the way the green one looked on her best, but it was the wrong color and far to light for February. Staring at it intently for several beats, she flicked her wand and turned it to a rich, cranberry red. Another wave of the piece of wood, and the short, fluttery sleeves stretched to full-length ones. Satisfied with the transformation, she slipped the pretty frock on and pulled out a pair of dressy heels, swapping out her ballet flats. The necklace Draco had given her for Christmas was always around her neck, and the “v” of the dress showcased it perfectly.

Smiling to her reflection in the mirror, she spun around and hurried back out the door and down the stairs in search of her dinner date. Upon reaching the foyer, she found him waiting for her, his standard work shirt and tie exchanged for a soft grey oxford that brought out his eyes and made her breath catch in her throat. He was watching her with such open adoration she was almost swept away and had to force herself to pay attention to the last few steps, lest she trip over her fancy shoes and land in a heap on the floor.

Draco held out his arm in a formal manner, “Shall we?” his eyes twinkling with mirth, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards.

She couldn’t stop her answering grin if she’d tried, “We shall.”

She let him steer her, not in the direction of the stairs to the kitchen, but to the dining room, where Kreacher had truly outdone himself. An ornate candelabra sat in the center of the mahogany table, on top of a white, lace runner. Small vases filled with beautiful roses anchored the flickering lights on either side. Two places were set, complete with wine glasses, water goblets, silver chargers, and more silverware than Hermione knew what to do with, but it was impressively done all the same. Draco pulled out a chair for her, and she sat, busying herself with her napkin while he sank into his own seat. No sooner had they done this, than a basket of rolls, a small dish of butter, and two salads appeared before them.

“I have no idea what Kreacher has planned for dinner,” Hermione admitted as she buttered a still-warm roll, “I didn’t ask him to make anything, since I thought it would just be me tonight.”

“Oh, it’s all been taken care of,” Draco winked at her and pulled a bottle of wine from the ice bucket that had just materialized near his left elbow.

“Really?” she arched a brow in teasing inquiry, “Have you been owling the House Elf recently?”

“No, but I have been in contact with the wizard he works for,” he smirked.

“Ah, more help from Harry, I presume?”

“Exactly,” he nodded pompously, “What good is being friends with the Golden Hero of the Wizarding World if I can’t extract favors from him from time to time?”

She giggled and shook her head, a soft smile curving her mouth as she gazed at her favorite wizard, “Could you ever have pictured this? Two years ago, would you have ever imagined being here? Being… _us_?”

He knew exactly what she meant and reached out to caress her face with his hand as he replied, “No, I couldn’t have. And I’ve never been more thankful for my limited imagination in my life.”

“Me, too,” she breathed, her eyes never leaving his.

Their romantic dinner continued on in that vein for quite some time, neither of them in any rush to end what they knew was a special and infrequent opportunity. Through salad, soup, entrée, and dessert, they conversed quietly about all manner of things, pausing often to exchange soft kisses, meaningful glances, and gentle touches. Though neither of them said it out loud, both were pondering the fact that this could be their future; dinners together in their own home, unlimited time to spend, a life to share.

Once Kreacher’s delectable feast had come to an end, they made their way back to the drawing room, where they continued to simply enjoy one another’s presence. While their conversations ranged over a variety of topics, nothing terribly serious was brought up, mostly because Hermione didn’t have anything like that to discuss, and because Draco refused to mention his father. Eventually, as the hour grew late and the excitement of the day caught up with her, the petite brunette fell asleep with her cheek pressed against Draco’s chest, her arm draped around his waist. He was more than happy to let her doze, sinking further into the overstuffed cushions and propping his feet on the coffee table.

This was the sight that met Harry’s eyes when he stepped through the floo shortly before midnight. He could tell Draco had been asleep, since the pale blonde was blinking slowly at him from his relaxed position on the sofa. Hermione was still sound asleep, and Harry grinned at the small snores coming from her, catching the other wizard’s eye and receiving a wry smirk in exchange.

“It all went well, then?” he asked in a whisper as he sat down in one of the armchairs opposite his former-nemesis.

“Perfectly,” Draco responded just as quietly with a firm nod, “Thanks for all your help, Potter. There’s no way I could have pulled it off without you.”

“What’s that?” Harry cupped a hand to his ear, pretending as if he hadn’t heard.

“I said thank you,” Draco used a stage whisper this time, “I wouldn’t have managed it without your help.”

“Say that last part again,” Harry leaned forward and turned so his ear was fully facing his friend.

“I said you’re a giant git,” Draco growled in a low voice, having figured out what Harry was doing, which only made the humble hero laugh as he settled back into his seat.

“Glad it was good. It’s not often you can pull off a decent surprise for her. She’s too observant for her own good,” the dark-haired wizard snorted.

“Too right,” Draco sighed, “How was your evening?”

“Fantastic. Really, really good. The Ivy is an upscale place – way out of my league, to be honest – but the food was delicious and Ginny was fascinated by everything. She’d never been to a real Muggle restaurant before.”

“Really? You’ve never taken her anywhere outside Wizarding London?”

“Well, we’ve gone to a couple of pubs, a café or two, and a pizza place, but not a fancy spot like the one tonight. I’d never been to one like that before, either. It’s not like Vernon and Petunia ever took me out,” he chuckled wryly, “They’re probably horrified by the fact that Dudley and I meet for pints every week – that he goes out in public with me.”

“Did they think you would set the place on fire? Turn all the wait staff into dung beetles?” Draco couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of Harry’s relatives.

“Who in Merlin’s name knows? They were terrified of magic and anyone connected to it, and I’m not even sure why. I know my mum and dad were killed by an evil wizard, but Petunia cut all ties with her sister long before then.” Harry shrugged and waved his hand, dismissing the entire thing, “Regardless, now that I’m a fully qualified wizard, and famous bloke to boot, I can take my fiancée wherever I please, and throw obscene amounts of money down for a gourmet meal, and not have to worry about shattering everyone’s water glasses, or blowing the other patrons up like balloons.” He started chortling towards the end of his statement, which only served to make Draco snigger as well, causing Hermione to stir from her slumber.

Sleepy brown eyes opened to find a pair of familiar green ones watching her with amusement.

“Harry,” she mumbled, “How’s dinner?”

“It was lovely. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, but I need to get your human pillow back to Hogwarts before he turns into a pumpkin.”

Draco looked completely confused by Harry’s pronouncement, but at least understood that it was time for him to go, and set about disentangling himself from his girlfriend, who was still rather out of it.

“I’ll wait for you at my office,” Harry told him, and stepped back into the hearth with a hearty “Auror Department” echoing behind him as he disappeared.

“I guess I should follow him, then,” Draco stood reluctantly and tugged Hermione up with him so he could wrap his arms around her and hold her tight for just a second or two.

“Thank you, for making today so special,” she murmured into his shirt front.

“Anything for you, love,” he replied, trailing kisses along her jaw before capturing her lips with his. He let himself sink into the kiss for a couple of beats, let his brain go a little foggy and his knees get a little weak before forcing himself to pull away. “I’ll see you this weekend, yeah?”

“Of course,” Hermione’s soft smile made his heart stutter and he couldn’t stop from kissing her one more time before backing up towards the floo.

“I love you,” he stated simply.

“And I love you,” she responded, her eyes never leaving his.

The next instant he was gone in a whoosh of green sparks, and she was left alone in the dimly-lit drawing room, the memory of his kiss still on her lips, which were still curved in blissful happiness.

“Does Miss need anything?” a croaky voice broke the silence and she turned to find the Elf standing a little ways behind her.

“No, Kreacher, but thank you. I’m just going to head up to bed,” she took a few steps towards him and then crouched down to be eye-level with the small being. “Thank you so much, for everything you did tonight. It was absolutely perfect.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, the old Elf seemed to be blushing, but he cleared his throat and responded with his usual gruffness, “You are most welcome, Miss. Kreacher is glad to know you are pleased.”

“Oh, very much so,” she beamed at him, “No one has ever gone to such lengths for me before. It was truly wonderful.”

Kreacher studied her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his wrinkled face, and the tips of his ears started quivering, which was a sure sign he was about to say something he wasn’t sure was allowed, but he fixed her with a more determined look and forged ahead, “Miss deserves such things. Kreacher thinks the young Malfoy cares very much for Miss, and will take care to show her that. As he should.”

Having apparently reached the end of his brave speech, he nodded once and disappeared with a loud _crack_ , leaving Hermione to stare wide-eyed at the spot he’d vanished from. She knew Kreacher had definitely softened towards her over the last year and a half, but it was still very rare for him to speak so personally about his thoughts on anyone other than Harry. His words warmed her heart and reinforced her own sentiments about the wizard who cared “ _very much for her,”_ and she carried the short conversation up to her room, where she fell back to sleep with a smile on her face and a pair of mesmerizing grey eyes in her mind.

ooOoo

_Hermione!_

_Oh, my Merlin, do I have things to tell you! You’re not going to believe it. Well, maybe you will. Actually, maybe you already know… Either way, I’m still going to tell you:_

_Pansy went out on a date with Ron Weasley for Valentine’s Day!_

_But that’s not actually the crazy part. She enjoyed it – like REALLY enjoyed it! She was so excited about it, she wrote to me immediately after she got home and her owl arrived first thing Tuesday morning. I’m already in Paris with my mother and Tori, so her poor bird probably had a bit of a time trying to find me, but that’s not the point._

_You have to understand; Pansy does not get excited. About anything. Ever. The best you can usually get out of her is some sort of smirk, or raised eyebrows, or maybe a “that’s nice” if you’re lucky. Like most of us, she was raised to think that showing emotion was a form of weakness, and that it could be used against her. Apparently she’s thrown all that out the window now that she’s found her Prince Charming. He took her to a very nice restaurant in Barnton, which is another wizarding village in Cheshire. It must have been quite the spot to impress her so much._

_I don’t know how often you see Ron, but next time you do, you should let him know that she truly did have a lovely time with him (since I’m sure she barely hinted at how she was feeling in front of him) and tell him whatever he’s doing is working. I’ve never known her to use words like “wonderful” or “sweet” – she might as well be professing her undying love by now. It’s all rather hilarious, honestly._

_How was your Valentine’s Day? Did you get to see Draco at all? Oliver and I went out before I left – he got a portkey and brought me to this incredible restaurant in Boscombe, not too far from where his team practices called Gilbrey's. I’d never been to a Muggle restaurant before, which I know makes me sound ridiculous, but I loved every second of it! It was so romantic; candles and wine and delicious food; he brought me flowers and pulled out my chair; the quintessential gentleman! It was perfect and I’m actually glad we wound up going before the holiday, since I’m certain a place like that would have been hard to get into on the 14 th. _

_Now I’m here, on my sister’s “tour,” and though I’m only four days in, I’m ready to be back home in my little flat above the shop. I’m enjoying the time with Tori, and my mother has been bearable so far, but all the snobbish witches and over-priced clothes… I don’t need any of it, and, if I’m being completely honest, this lifestyle doesn’t really fit me anymore. I like being able to have real, genuine conversations with my friends. I like wearing comfortable clothes and eating whatever I feel like. I like spending time with people who matter to me, without worrying about saying the wrong thing or not impressing them enough. I know I sound ungrateful for my upbringing, but I have no desire to adhere to the standards of high society anymore. I don’t know if Oliver is “the one” for me, but I can envision a life with him much more clearly than I can with any of the pompous, stuffy, Purebloods my mother would prefer._

_Anyway, all that to say, I hope your Valentine was good to you (I’m sure he was!) and that you’re doing well. I’ll miss you all terribly next weekend, but I promise I’ll be there in March! Hug everyone for me._

_Xoxoxo,_

_Daph_

Hermione let out a light chuckle as she refolded the letter and put it in her bag to bring home later. She had known that Ron intended to take Pansy out, but hadn’t yet heard how it all went. She decided then, that she would stop by the joke shop after work that day to check in on her red-haired best friend, and see if he’d spill the details. Though it was already Wednesday, she was still riding on a cloud from the incredible date Draco had planned for her two nights earlier, and couldn’t seem to stop smiling; not that she really wanted to. Her bedroom still looked a bit like a card store, with the roses and balloons, and the box tower that she’d emptied of all its contents and restacked under her window, next to Roy’s cage. The puff-mouse seemed rather fascinated by the bright colors and glittery ribbon and she found him staring at it several times already. She’d shrunken the bear down to something a little more manageable, and he now sat in the armchair off to the side of her bed.

 _Bingley_. She laughed again. Draco had admitted to asking for ideas for the name, but not from Theo. Apparently a conversation about fictional characters had been taking place during one of the meals at the staff table, and he threw his question out to the group. Among other suggestions were Fitzwilliam, Sherlock, Heathcliff, and Gatsby, but he’d decided Bingley was the best fit for the soft, fuzzy, oversized bear. Hermione had to agree, and thought her new plush friend looked quite dashing in his festive bowtie, his sweet face continually tilted in a curious manner, like he was asking her what she was thinking about. The answer to that unasked query was typically the same, as her thoughts so often revolved around one particular, platinum blonde man.

Humming to herself, she dove back into the file regarding the Kelpie herd. She’d learned over the course of the six months she’d been working in the Being Division that her job was not only unique, but also constantly changing and expanding and evolving as needs arose. For example, this particular case involved a non-sentient species (though her job description focused on fully and part-sentient clients), and while it was crucial that someone stepped in to determine boundaries and reached agreement with the Scottish and Irish Ministries, the animals themselves would probably never know or care. She didn’t mind, though. Each project that crossed her desk was interesting in its own way, and she’d had numerous opportunities to meet with a variety of magical beings she’d had limited contact with over the years (such as Goblins and Elves), or none at all (like Merpeople and Fairies). She’d even spent several hours chatting with a Veela who was attempting to become an Animagus and was finding the registration process to be a bit difficult, due to the fact that technically the beautiful woman could already transform into a bird-like creature. Hermione’d had to squash her insatiable curiosity and focus solely on asking questions pertaining to her client’s current predicament, and not the myriad of queries she had about Veela in general.

ooOoo

The Thursday following the romantic holiday found Draco in his weekly meeting with Harry. As expected, he had received a letter from his mother regarding Lucius’ condition just hours after his prior conversation with the raven-haired Auror, and as promised, he dealt with it after spending a blissfully wonderful Valentine’s evening with Hermione. The morning after, he forced himself to respond to Narcissa’s missive, saying he would accompany her whenever she wished to go, gritting his teeth and gripping his quill so hard he almost snapped it as he scratched the words across the parchment. She had written back almost immediately, asking if that coming weekend would work for his schedule. Expecting that to be her wish, he had preemptively asked McGonagall if he could go home to the Manor on Friday after classes were done, and return Sunday. The Headmistress had granted him permission without hesitation, and Neville had been more than happy to help him out by taking on the patrol duties he was supposed to have with Miles on Saturday night.

“How are you feeling about it?” Harry asked, concern etched across his friendly face.

Draco shrugged and grunted, having no real desire to talk about the swarm of negative thoughts and emotions roiling through him, but also knowing that his former rival was nowhere near gullible enough to believe he was fine about the whole thing. So, he spoke candidly.

“I’m dreading it, to be honest,” Draco let out a heavy sigh, “I have nothing to say to the man, and even if I did, I don’t know that I’m cruel enough to lay into him when he’s in such a state. He’s literally dying, so what kind of person would I be to throw my accusations at him now? And there’s no guarantee he’d even care how I feel about everything he did, anyway, which I think would only make it all that much worse.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and continued with a small frown, “I’m more worried about my mother and what this will do to her. I know she cut herself off from him after I was forced to take the Mark, but she still loves him… Or at least the ‘him’ she used to know. Seeing him so unwell is going to be extremely difficult for her, regardless of how distant they grew in recent years.”

Harry simply nodded, knowing everything Draco said was true and not having any placating or uplifting words to make it better. He was very proud of the tall blonde for going through with it, though. He’d wondered many times over the last week what he would do in the same situation; would he bother going to see the man who’d turned him over to a deranged psychopath for selfish gain? Could he stand to look in his so-called father’s face after being raised in such a horrific and brutal environment; after everything he had suffered and endured? He truly didn’t know. Part of him would be glad to take the easy way out and stay as far away from the stone fortress of Azkaban as possible, waiting for news of Lucius’ death to arrive by owl. But part of him also knew that one last face-to-face encounter might allow for some sense of closure, and that was important, too.

“He’ll only be given an hour’s visitation,” Harry explained, “And from what I understand, you will be meeting in a standard holding room with a guard at the door. They aren’t allowing anyone from outside into the medical wing, and there aren’t many other options, but at least they won’t be bringing you to a cell or anything.”

Draco couldn’t squash the shudder that ran through him at the memory of his bleak, dark, and utterly depressing domain during his short stay in the wizarding prison. The thought of entering one of those small stone cages ever again was enough to make him want to scream; he was positive his mother would agree.

After spending the rest of his time with Harry hashing out details for their trip out to the North Sea, the tall blonde sat in pensive silence for quite a long time once he was alone again. He wasn’t actually thinking about anything, per se, but was more trying to figure out exactly how he felt about the impending meeting; where he was emotionally and psychologically about it all. The only feeling he could identify with certainty was a level of mental exhaustion he hadn’t experienced since before the Battle. Knowing he still needed to get through Friday’s lessons and responsibilities, he decided to call it a night early, and made his way to his bedroom. There, on the nightstand, he found a new message from his favorite witch in their two-way journal.

_Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking about you. I know you and Harry were going to sort out your visit with Lucius today, and I’m sure the prospect of it weighs heavily. I’m so very proud of you for having the courage to do this – I know Narcissa is, too. There is nothing your father can say that can in any way diminish your accomplishments over the last year and a half, or take away from the incredible man you have become. I’ll see you when it’s over._

_I love you._

_Xoxoxo_

Simply reading her words caused the tightness in his chest to relax a little and he was able to breathe more deeply than he had all throughout his conversation with Harry. Upon telling her about his upcoming journey, she’d immediately asked if he wanted her to be at the Manor when he and his mother returned. His response had been an automatic “yes,” knowing that no matter what state he was in afterwards, her presence would bring a steadying peace, an anchoring comfort, as it always did.

Since the two of them would be occupied with this, and Daphne was away on her tour, the rest of the housemates decided to forego a typical Game Night weekend, and instead made plans to simply all meet up at the Leaky for dinner on Saturday night, since the majority of them were in the London area already. While he was loathe to miss out, he knew this needed to be done, and was simply grateful for the knowledge that once it was all over, Hermione would be there waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings from my corner of the world, where it is foggy and grey on this October morning! I hope this latest chapter finds you well, and staying safe and healthy during this seemingly-endless cycle of craziness. As I'm sure you can tell, the road gets a little bumpy for Draco over the next little bit, but y'all know me enough by now to be sure it won't last and that there will be a happy conclusion to it all <3 Thank you so much for sticking with me!   
> Side note: In this, and all my other pieces, all cities, villages, restaurants, theaters, etc. that are mentioned in the Muggle world are actual, real places, and exist (or did at the time the story takes place) in the location referred to. I'm a bit of an information nerd when it comes to stuff like that, and have thoroughly enjoyed doing my homework to make it more realistic ;)


	57. The Ties that Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Narcissa visit Lucius in Azkaban.

It was exactly as he remembered it. Not that Draco expected the solid, stone fortress to have changed in any way since his brief stint within its foreboding walls, but the fact that it looked, and loomed, and felt, and _smelled_ identical to how it had when he was imprisoned there was rather unnerving. It was cold and dank, and a mustiness hung about in the air that seemed to choke even the thought of anything fresh or clean right out of existence. The morbid quiet weighed heavily, only broken by the crashing of the waves that could barely be heard through the massive structure, the shuffling clatter of footsteps in the hall, and the occasional words spoken in low, even tones.

In any other setting, it might be considered peaceful. But it was Azkaban, so it wasn’t.

Draco followed along behind his mother, who was walking next to Harry, listening intently as he spoke reassuringly to her about where they were going and how it would all play out. While Narcissa had been completely determined to see Lucius one last time, returning to the site of her own incarceration was clearly rattling her normally poised and composed demeanor.

The guard who was leading them to their destination slowed his steps and turned to a door on his left. Turning the handle, he swung it open and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. His face was kind as he nodded at them, and Draco had been relieved to see his mother had been treated with the utmost respect from the moment they had arrived. He didn’t particularly care how anyone reacted to him, but he’d wanted to spare her from anything that would further upset her at the moment. His concern had been for naught. The wizard at the front desk had been nothing but polite as he’d asked them to sign in and turn over their wands, and had even expressed his sympathy over the reason for their visit.

The room they now found themselves in was dull and drab; the walls were stone like all the rest in the massive building, the floor as well. A rectangle, metal table sat in the center of the space, with two matching chairs at each end, and another two next to each other on the far side. It was in the latter that Draco and Narcissa sat, while Harry plopped down in one on the end, all of them facing the door they’d just entered through. The one bit of pleasantry in the otherwise sterile environment, was that there was a window – a decent sized one at that – and it looked out over the iron-colored waves. The sun had made an unexpected and rare appearance that day, so a bit of light actually made its way into their midst, bringing with it the tiniest shred of hope that this meeting would go well. Or as well as it possibly could, at any rate.

A few minutes went by, with the trio making quiet conversation. Both Malfoys were exceedingly thankful for the presence of their Auror-friend, who had an uncanny ability to lighten just about any mood with his amicable countenance, and the knots in their stomachs were lessened as he engaged them with a variety of amusing, and often self-depreciating stories, and they’d almost forgotten where they were or why. But then the door opened once more.

Lucius was conveyed in a wheeled, high-backed chair, pushed by a fairly young mediwizard who greeted them all with a small smile and nod of his head. Harry was the only one who returned the gesture, as both Draco and Narcissa were utterly fixated on the wizard in front of them. Though his platinum hair and slate-grey eyes were as recognizable as ever, the rest of the once-haughty and arrogant man was drastically altered. Bundled in a plaid robe, with a thick blanket across his legs, it was clear he was physically frail. His skin was even more pale than usual, and had a sickly pallor; his cheeks were slightly sunken, and his hands trembled in his lap. His gaze flickered back and forth between his wife and his son as he strove to maintain his typical air of calm superiority, while they both focused entirely on him with wary concern.

The staff member spoke first, breaking the heavy silence, “Hello, my name is Wallace Docherty, and I’m the mediwizard in charge of Mr. Malfoy’s care.” He paused and smiled at each of the three guests, extending his hand as well, which they all took and shook with sincerity. “I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about his condition, or the treatment he’s receiving, though I do have to admit that much of what he’s experiencing is still the result of something unknown. We are continuing to do our best to figure out the cause, as well as the most effective means of providing relief and comfort.”

Narcissa nodded vaguely, her eyes once again glued to the still-silent form of her husband, but Draco focused on the other man before him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly and was surprised to see Wallace’s smile grow wider.

“I was actually hoping to meet you, Mister Malfoy.”

“Me? Why?” Draco was completely bemused.

“My family was one of the recipients of a portrait you commissioned last year. My wife, before she became Felicity Docherty, was Felicity Burbage. Professor Charity Burbage was her sister.”

Draco felt what little color had still remained in his face drain. Of all the portraits he’d requested, all the victims now immortalized in paint, Charity Burbage had been the only one whose death he’d been present for in such a close, personal, horrifying way. He could still see her wide, terrified eyes; could still hear her hoarse, pleading cries; could still feel the table he’d been forced to sit at shudder under the weight of Voldemort’s vile pet as he called it forward.

He forced himself to meet Wallace’s eyes, which were pinned on him with earnest gratitude, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Professor Burbage was a kind and compassionate woman, and a powerful witch.” He felt a lump growing in his throat, knowing that while his interactions with the Muggle Studies teacher had been negligible, Hermione had been very fond of her and always spoke highly of her.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Wallace replied, “I can’t tell you how much the portrait meant to Felicity and her parents. They live just a street over from us, so she goes to visit several times a week. It’s helped her cope with her grief more than I can even begin to explain.” The young wizard’s eyes took on a sheen, and his chin quivered slightly, “You’ve done a tremendous thing, you have. For all the families who received portraits.” He stuck out his hand again and this time, when Draco took it, Wallace clapped his other hand on top of their connected ones and squeezed firmly. “Thank you,” he nodded emphatically and stared at the pale blonde for another beat before letting go and stepping back.

Harry had watched the entire exchanged with a tiny, pleased smile on his face. He had no idea this encounter was in the cards that day, but was very glad for it. If nothing else good came of the next hour, at least this was a moment Draco could look back on proudly. He also hadn’t missed the way Lucius keyed into the conversation, his shrewd gaze flitting back and forth, his brow arched in unmistakable surprise as understanding dawned.

“I’ll leave you to your visit, and I’ll be back before the end to answer any questions you might have, but you’re welcome to call for me earlier if you have need,” Wallace addressed all of them as a whole, and made his exit, closing the door softly behind him, though the guard outside remained.

“Lucius,” Narcissa whispered, the first words she’d uttered since he’d been wheeled into the room, “Are you… can you speak?” Her voice was unsteady, as were her hands, which were twisting the material of her robes in her lap as if trying to strangle the fabric.

Lucius blinked a few times, his eyes wandering from his wife, to his son, to Harry, on whom they rested for several seconds as his brow furrowed.

“Hello, Mister Malfoy,” Harry greeted him professionally, “I’m here as your wife and son’s court-appointed liaison. I have been working with them since they were first imprisoned over a year and a half ago. As per the Ministry's regulations, I must remain with them during their time here, but I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about their sentencing or current circumstances.”

Several emotions seemed to flit across the older wizard’s face; confusion, annoyance, a spark of indignation, and then finally, reluctant acceptance. He nodded once at the Chosen One before turning to face his family members again, his eyes resting on Draco for several beats before settling on Narcissa. Though his demeanor remained aloof and cool, his eyes softened infinitesimally as they raked over her beautiful features.

“Yes,” his voice was a gravelly whisper, “I can speak, though not loudly, or for long periods of time.” He cleared his throat and gave a small shrug of his too-thin shoulders, “I’m better off than some of the others. But I want to know about you… are you well? Are you taken care of? What has become of the Manor… the estate?” His voice started to fade the longer he spoke, and his countenance shifted to one of skeptical intrigue as he once again looked between the two blondes across the table, though his chin remained raised, his shoulders as straight as he could manage.

For the next three-quarters of an hour, Draco and Narcissa shared all that had transpired since the Battle, their own accounts bouncing back and forth like a tennis match, with Harry sometimes interjecting when clarification for the legal aspects of things was needed. The elegant witch regained the light in her sparkling blue eyes as she talked about all the redecorating she’d done, her renewed relationship with her sister and nephew, her latest hobbies and interests. Draco spoke of his year at Hogwarts, the friends he’d made, the job he currently had, and the possible opportunities for the upcoming year. Harry noticed the older man’s expressions as he listened to his wife and son, which ranged from polite interest to mild confusion to something that looked marginally like pride. Of course, throughout the course of their recounting, one particular witch was mentioned multiple times, and finally, Lucius could hold back his questions no longer.

“Hermione? As in, Hermione Granger?” his voice gave nothing away, as strained as it was, but his expression was one of incredulity.

The younger Pureblood stiffened at the mention of the woman who held his heart, knowing this was inevitable, and having been expecting it much sooner, if he was honest. He had been determined to hide nothing about the people he was closest to, and it seemed his mother held no qualms about including the Brightest Witch of the Age in her updates as well.

“Yes,” he nodded firmly, “Hermione Granger and I have been together since last New Year’s.” He did not feel like sharing the details of the what led them to that point; did not think his father would care about the conversation in her childhood home, or the fact that she had so freely forgiven him for the abominable way he’d treated her. He had no intention of spilling out his innermost thoughts and musings regarding his brilliant, compassionate, powerful, adorable girlfriend, but if Lucius made even one disparaging remark…

Lucius looked at Narcissa as if waiting for her to say something, possibly to dispute their son’s claim. She simply smiled and placed her hand on Draco’s arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hermione is an amazing young woman, Lucius. I make no exaggeration when I say she has played a tremendous part in helping Draco move beyond his past regrets and mistakes.”

Unable to stop himself, Draco added, “It’s more than that. She’s the reason I’ve become the man I am now; a far better version of myself than I could have ever imagined.” He clamped his mouth shut before he could say anything else, but caught Harry’s approving smirk out of the corner of his eye. It was true, and he wasn’t the least bit ashamed to admit it.

A tension-filled silence fell upon them for several seconds, with all three visitors waiting to see what Lucius might have to say about this revelation. His brow was furrowed once again and his eyes were focused on the table in front of him, his still-shaking hands locked tightly together in his lap. It seemed as if he was deliberating on what to say, and Harry hoped to Merlin he was choosing his words carefully. Finally, those piercing, silver orbs met his son’s and he adopted a look of begrudging curiosity.

“What does… Miss Granger do? Now that she is also done with her schooling?” Again, his voice held no hint of derision or censure, just inquiry.

Draco released a small huff and met the gaze that mirrored his own, “She’s taken a position working with both the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and the Wizengamot. She’s a liaison for Beings who need representation, and is looking to have several laws updated or changed.” He couldn’t disguise the note of pride in his tone, “They created the job especially for her.”

At that, Lucius’ eyes went wide with surprise for a split second before he schooled his features back into his trademark stoicism, but there was no mistaking his initial reaction.

Narcissa added her thoughts on the matter, “She’s quite incredible. The last time she came for tea she was telling me about the case she’s working on in cooperation with the Scottish and Irish Ministries, and it’s all rather impressive, honestly. Especially for someone so young.”

Lucius was frowning slightly, “She came for tea? You mean… to the Manor?”

“Yes, Lucius,” Narcissa’s tone was harder now, her eyes narrowed down to slits, “She’s been to the Manor quite a few times to date, including over the holidays with her parents.”

Both Draco and Harry inhaled sharply and watched with trepidation as the Malfoy patriarch’s jaw dropped in complete shock. While Draco had not planned to hide his relationship with Hermione from his father, he had rather thought he’d leave the part about becoming close with Edward and Jeanette out of the equation. He hadn’t even considered the need to mention that to his mother, who had now just dropped the biggest bombshell of all on her staunchly traditional, utterly narrow-minded, notoriously prejudiced husband.

It was clear Narcissa viewed her statement as a challenge to him and she folded her arms across her chest as she waited for his reaction, her expression severe. Anyone with even a shred of common sense could tell that he was treading on very thin ice, and that how he chose to reply would inevitably determine their final memory of him.

He sat very still for several beats before inhaling deeply and looking between his family members again, “Are you… is she… is this… serious?” His voice was lower, raspier, and his breathing shallower since he’d arrived, though his mood still remained even, his face still reserved. He coughed a few times and cocked his head while watching Draco, waiting for a response.

Surprised by the question, and uncertain if he should be offended by it, or simply wary, the younger wizard nodded emphatically, “It is.”

Lucius looked slightly pained, “You are still very young, Draco.” He paused to take several more breaths, “I am… glad… you are happy.” Another handful of silent seconds passed, “Perhaps this will help you… determine the qualities you… you would look for… in a wife.” It seemed to be taking much more effort for him to speak than it had originally, but Draco was fixated on the words and not the delivery.

“What I would look for?” his anger flared red hot, though his words came out with frigid intensity. “I’ve _found_ what I would look for. I have everything I could have ever possibly dreamt of in Hermione, and so much more. _She_ will be my wife someday!” Again, he abruptly stopped himself from going further, not wishing to upset his mother, and not willing to engage in this debate with a man whose opinion he held no regard for.

Narcissa placed her hand on top of his, which was clenched in a fist on his thigh, his other one having drifted towards his pocket automatically, searching for a wand he currently didn’t have in his possession.

Harry had been paying very close attention to the whole exchange and noticed a continual decline in Lucius as the visit wore on. A sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead, his hands were shaking more visibly, and his breathing was clearly labored. The man was obviously unwell and the young Auror wondered just how much of the version they’d been presented with was a front for a much worse-off individual. He knew Lucius’ pride and arrogance would have balked at being viewed in such a weak and pitiable state, and was certain that measures had been taken to hide just how much he had deteriorated in recent months.

Before Harry could finish his observations, Lucius dissolved into a nasty coughing fit that wracked his entire body and sent all three of them shooting to their feet as he looked like he might topple right out of his chair from the force of it. Narcissa got around the table first, and steadied his shoulders, helping him sit upright again, while Harry strode to the door and asked the guard to call Wallace back. Draco had leaned across the table towards his father, his arm outstretched in an incomplete and unknown gesture. He sank back into his seat and met the pewter gaze that had sought him out once again.

Rough, panting gasps filled the air as Lucius tried to regain his composure. In the midst of his struggle, the robe had slipped open, revealing his very prominent collarbones, and the thick blanket had shifted enough that his now-emaciated calves and ankles were visible. With Draco still on the other side of the table, it was only Narcissa who noticed these things, and she instinctively set about fixing everything back to rights, knowing her husband abhorred appearing less than he once had been.

Wallace was back in mere seconds, checking his patient over to make sure he was still stable, and though Harry did not know anything about medical spells or diagnostic tools, he was going to hazard a guess that the yellowish light pulsing over Lucius’ entire body was not a good sign.

“Those who have been afflicted with this particular illness seem to lose strength rapidly, especially after any sort of exertion, physical or emotional,” the young mediwizard explained as he checked Lucius’ pulse and settled him more securely back into his seat. The older man scowled at the fuss being made, but didn’t seem to have the energy to protest in the slightest.

“How long do you think my husband has left?” Narcissa asked quietly, ignoring the disparaging grunt Lucius made in response.

“Based on what we have seen, and the state he is currently in, my best estimate is that Mr. Malfoy has roughly four weeks,” Wallace answered with an apologetic glance between the two family members. “Though, the last week or two are spent in more of a comatose state, wherein he will no longer be aware of his surroundings.”

Both Narcissa and Draco simply nodded as they digested this unpleasant news, and Harry could see it meant very different things to each of them. Narcissa was clearly struggling to keep her emotions in check, her eyes having filled with tears she refused to shed, her hands once again wringing the life out of her robes. Draco, on the other hand, had gone completely rigid, his jaw clenched and a vein in his temple was throbbing.

“I’m very sorry the prognosis is so grim,” Wallace offered, and the man truly did seem remorseful for the news he bore, “I promise we have done all we can to make sure the patients are comfortable until the very end. It’s a very peaceful passing, if that helps.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa whispered, and Draco simply nodded once in response.

“Your allotted time is almost up,” the kindly man reminded them, “I’ll step back out to give you a chance to say goodbye. It was truly a pleasure to meet you all.” With that, he gave a small bow and took his leave, and Harry decided it was a good time for him to exit the room as well. He glanced at Draco and cocked his head towards the door, indicating he’d be out in the hall as well, and followed in the staff member’s wake.

“I’ll let you have a moment,” the pale wizard said to his mother as he walked around the table and halted at his father’s other side. She met his gaze with a pleading expression, and he huffed a small sigh and turned to face the man he’d once idolized, trying to determine how he felt at the moment, and how he was supposed to do this. Before he could utter a single syllable, Lucius grabbed his wrist with a shaking hand, his grasp surprisingly strong, though not meant to harm.

“Draco,” he croaked out, clearly fighting for every breath, “My son… proud of you.” His intense stare never wavered, though his words were getting harder and harder to understand as his voice failed. “Never meant… find happiness… I’m sorry.” His grip tightened for a moment and a desperate sort of look flashed across his face, “I’m sorry.”

Draco was stunned. He had never actually heard his father apologize for anything in his entire life, and though he wasn’t exactly sure what the man was referring to, he took it as an all-encompassing request for forgiveness for all the ways he’d failed his only son over the years. The younger man found that he felt remorse as well, though he wasn’t quite sure what for. Deciding to unpack that all later, he simply inclined his head towards Lucius and replied quietly.

“Me, too.”

Having reached his limit, Draco gently extracted himself from his father’s hold and made his own way out into the hall. Not until the door clicked shut behind him did he release the breath he felt he’d been holding for the past hour.

“Alright, mate?” Harry watched him with concern, fully aware that his former rival was absolutely not alright, but hoping he was at least stable enough to manage the journey home.

Draco shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes flickering from Harry, to the guard, to the walls and floor, and back again, clearly unable to settle.

“You can go get your wand and sign out, if you want,” Harry offered as a means of giving him something to do, “I’ll wait for Narcissa and meet you at the desk.”

With a curt nod, Draco spun on his heel and strode off in the direction they’d first come from, watching the stones pass beneath his feet without registering anything beyond the sound his shoes made against the hard surface. He reached the desk, signed the clipboard, accepted his wand and a pleasant farewell from the attendant, and moved to stand in the entryway, as close to the doors as possible. There were two narrow windows, one on each side of the heavy, wooden panels, and he focused his attention on the world outside. The sun was still shining, the waves were still rolling, but he saw none of it. Instead, his mind kept replaying the last few seconds with his father.

 _He was sorry_. What was he sorry for? Sorry for the devastation and ruin he brought on their family by his association with Voldemort? Sorry for brainwashing his son and sacrificing him for an insane, bigoted, violent cause? Sorry for never being any of the things a real father should have been? Or sorry because now his life was ending and it was too late to make any attempt at real amends? And the comment about being proud of him… Again, Draco could not recall a time when the man had ever expressed pride or satisfaction in him. Perhaps when he was very young and learned to ride a broom, or managed to cast his first controlled spell; but those words had most assuredly not passed Lucius’ lips since Draco entered Hogwarts.

He started pacing back and forth across the small foyer, his stomach in knots, his heart pounding like he’d just escaped a stampeding Hippogriff. A lump the size of a snitch was lodged in his throat, and he felt far too hot, but his hands were clammy and cold as ice. The weight of the whole situation seemed to be settling on him as he considered, truly considered for the first time, the fact that his father was going to die in a manner of weeks, and that this had been the last time he’d see him. He still couldn’t figure out how he felt about that, other than nauseous and ready to scream. He wanted to punch the wall; wanted to bolt out the door and run as far and as fast from the horrid place as he could; wanted to march back in the room and demand an explanation for the vague apology he’d been given, though he knew it would most likely only make him feel worse.

Before he could act on any of those unhelpful instincts, he heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry and his mother coming towards him. Harry was watching him intently, while gently guiding Narcissa, who was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, to the door.

“Ready to go?” the raven-haired wizard asked quietly.

Draco nodded with a jerk of his head and the trio stepped out into the frigid sea air, gathered close to each other, and as one, disappeared with a loud _crack._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Gosh, this one was kind of stressful to write. I didn't want a big explosion between any of them, but I also didn't want to completely give away what's going to happen in the chapters to come, so it's purposefully vague at certain points... Anyway, their visit with Lucius is done, though there is still a bit more drama up ahead. Thanks so much for reading and commenting! I appreciate all of you so very much :)


	58. What Doesn't Kill Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco processes the visit with his father and comes to terms with several things, with the help of his favorite witch.

Harry, Narcissa, and Draco reappeared in the young Auror’s office, where they regained their bearings and simply stared at one another for a beat or two.

“Is there anything you need from me? Anything I can do for you?” Harry asked with quiet concern, knowing the last hour had been overwhelming for both mother and son, to say the least.

Narcissa shook her head and gave him a small, tremulous smile as she placed her hand on his arm, “No, but thank you very much.”

“Yes,” Draco cleared his throat and met the bright green eyes that were pinned on him intently, “Thank you. For going with us. For making the trip possible.”

Harry waved away the gratitude with a friendly smirk, “That was Kingsley’s doing, but I was more than happy to help in any way I could.” His expression turned serious again, “Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” Both blondes nodded and he gestured for them to exit his office, so he could walk them to the department’s floo. A firm handshake from Draco and a swift hug from Narcissa, and they stepped through the flames in a _whoosh_ of sparks.

Stepping out into the foyer of the Manor, the Malfoys were greeted at once by Merry, who took their cloaks and said she would bring tea. As the Elf disappeared, Narcissa turned to her son and met his slate-grey stare for the first time since he’d left the visitation room. She could see he was struggling to keep his emotions in check; could practically feel the combination of pain and anger, sorrow and grief rolling off him, and knew that as much as she might want to take it all away, she was not who he needed in that moment. Instead, she patted his cheek gently and told him she was going to her rooms for a bit, knowing that if she stayed, he would turn his focus on her and try to help her deal with the small storm currently raging within her own heart.

She walked down the hall and turned a corner to find Hermione hurrying towards her, a worried look on the pretty girl’s face as she took in the appearance of the older witch.

“Narcissa,” she breathed and immediately wrapped her arms around the elegant woman in an all-encompassing embrace. She didn’t say anything else, just simply held her, while Narcissa fought to keep the flood of tears at bay. After a few seconds, she pulled back and managed a watery smile.

“Draco is in the foyer,” was all she said before she extracted herself and continued on down the hall.

Wasting no time, Hermione set off to find her favorite wizard, and he was exactly where his mother had said – exactly where he’d been since the floo had deposited them several minutes before. He was staring at the floor, his hands hanging limply at his sides, his shoulders slumped as if weighed down by an invisible burden, which she knew was the case. Without a word, she stepped into his space and looped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest, and waited.

It only took him a second to acknowledge her presence, and once he did, his own arms encircled her tightly and he buried his face in her curls, his breathing harsh, his heartbeat pounding beneath her ear. He was trembling, and she couldn’t tell if it was from tears or anger or adrenaline, or perhaps a combination of all three, but she didn’t ask. She simply held him close and traced a random path up and down his back with her hands, trying to comfort him, to show him she was there with him. They stayed that way for what seemed like a very long time, though it was only a handful of minutes. She let him be the first to move, and he shifted slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head. She hummed quietly in response and gave him a little squeeze.

“I love you,” she stated softly.

“And I love you,” he breathed back. He took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled back, and she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. His eyes, though clear, were red-rimmed, and his face looked drawn and tired. She cupped his jaw with her hand and caressed the pale skin of his cheek with her thumb.

“Let’s go sit,” she offered and he nodded, so she wove her fingers through his and tugged him towards the sitting room, to one of their favorite spots on the comfortable sofa in front of the fireplace. As usual, Draco sat in the corner and she settled next to him, peering at him with concern as he scrubbed his hand down his face and carded his fingers roughly through his hair.

“Do you need anything?” she asked, her heart aching at the sight of him so clearly distressed, and yet valiantly trying to manage the heaviness of the day on his own.

He turned to face her, a small, defeated smile quirking his lips, “Just you.” He lifted his arm and she scooted closer, letting him drape it across her shoulders as she stretched her own across his middle and laid her head on his chest again. She knew he would tell her about it when he was ready, and she’d be there to listen no matter how long it took. As she watched the flames dance in the hearth, she could almost hear his brain whirring with thoughts of all that had transpired. Every so often, he’d inhale sharply, or his grip on her arm would tighten for an instant before relaxing again, or he’d bring his other hand up to scratch his neck, or wipe his eyes, or rub the arm she’d wrapped around him. At one point, Merry appeared with a tea tray, leaving it on the coffee table with nothing but a worried glance at her master and a quick bob towards them both.

Hours passed in near silence, save for the crackling of the fire, and still they sat. Hermione was slightly embarrassed when she realized she’d dozed off at one point, but upon peeking up at her human pillow, she found him asleep as well, his head resting on the squashy cushion behind him, his face smooth and void of the creases and lines that had marred it earlier. Perhaps that was the best thing for it. Sleep has a way of letting the mind rest, and putting even the most dire of circumstances in a more manageable light once a body awakens again. She hoped that would be the case for him and relaxed back into his hold, content to remain there until he roused.

Much later, Draco came to in a darkened room, lit only by the fire still burning in front of him, and a few flickering candles here and there. The sun had long since faded for the night, and it took him a minute to collect his thoughts and recall the events of the day that had led them to this point; led the witch in his arms being there. He gazed affectionately at the sleeping form twined around him like a fast-growing vine. Both of them had slumped further down into the sofa at some point, and he was now sprawled with one leg on the seat cushions, the other planted on the floor, while she was tucked into his side, her arm still belted across his stomach, and one leg thrown over his own.

He couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed at the sight and feel of her in his arms. Merlin, he was thankful for this woman. After the stressful and confusing time he’d had, and the jumbled mess his brain had been – still was if he was completely honest – all he had wanted was to have her near. And she had been there, without a single demand or request, or barrage of questions, she had given him exactly what he’d needed. He knew he was going to have to talk about his visit with Lucius; needed to talk about it if for no other reason than to get it out of his head, and while he wasn’t looking forward to digging into the emotional mire that was his relationship with his father, it was something that couldn’t be avoided. He let out a sigh and felt Hermione stir against him. A few seconds later, a pair of sleepy brown eyes were gazing at him with blatant yet loving apprehension.

“Hey,” she whispered, propping herself up a little so she could see him better.

“Hey,” he responded with a small smirk. He leaned in and kissed her, relishing her sweetness for a few beats before pulling back and twisting one of her curls around his finger. “Thank you, for being here.”

“Of course,” she leaned into his touch as she continued to watch him closely, “How are you? Truly?”

He thought about that for a moment, “I’m alright, I suppose. I… I’m not really sure how I feel about… everything.” He knew that was a wholly inadequate response, but he honestly wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts and emotions into words. She seemed to understand, however, because she nodded and pulled herself into an upright position, angling herself to face him fully from the spot next to him on the couch. He missed the warmth of her immediately, but knew they couldn’t stay entangled in each other forever, much as he might prefer it.

“Do you want something to eat?” she glanced at the tea tray that Merry had left hours earlier, and saw a plate of sandwiches and two steaming mugs of soup had been added to the offerings at some point along the way.

“Yes, actually,” Draco straightened up and realized with mild surprise that he really was hungry. As they dug into their simple yet more-than-adequate dinner, he told her about the visit that morning. There were many stops and starts as he went, moments when he got lost in thought, or struggled to find the words to explain what had been going through his head during the exchange with his father. Once he’d recounted it in full, he sat back and met her gaze with a weary shrug. “I don’t know what to make of it. I have no idea what he was apologizing for, and I don’t know why it matters so much that I try to figure it out.” He ran a hand over his face and gave a tired groan. “And I don’t have a clue what my response was supposed to mean. _Me, too?_ What in Salazar’s name was that about?” His hand dropped back into his lap and Hermione took hold of it between her own, tracing mindless circles on the back of it as she organized her own thoughts into something she hoped would be helpful.

“Well,” she began slowly, “I would hazard a guess that he was giving you some sort of general apology; asking for forgiveness for at least the last several years; for the time after Voldemort’s return and the horrendous circumstances that brought upon your family.” She paused and let that sink in for a moment and saw him nod while he watched her fingers continue their vague patterns. “Given that he said he was proud of you, I don’t think it’s far-fetched to think he was also apologizing for never saying that before; for never acknowledging the son he should have been encouraging and reaffirming and supporting for all those years.” Draco nodded again and she noticed a tightness in his jaw as he turned his face away from her, his free hand covering his mouth, his brow deeply furrowed.

A few seconds passed and she caught the hitch of his breath and the jerk of his shoulders, and didn’t think twice before shifting herself so she was entirely in his lap, wrapping her arms around him and running her fingers through his hair as his forehead rested against her shoulder. She felt him shudder and her own heart shattered for him, tears filling her eyes as she felt him struggle to keep his composure.

“Draco, it’s okay,” she whispered, and that seemed to be enough. He crushed her to him and clung to her like she was his lifeline, and perhaps in that moment she was. His quiet sobs ripped at her soul and silent tears coursed down her own cheeks as she continued to run one hand through his platinum locks while the other stroked his back in an unceasing motion. If she wasn’t hurting so badly for the wizard in her arms, she would be incandescently furious with his father. The fact that such a sorry excuse for a human had reduced this amazing man to the emotional wreck now before her was enough to make her see red. Blazing, fiery, inferno-worthy red. She wanted to hex Lucius to the netherworld and back, only so she could hex him again; wanted to scream at him for neglecting the talented, courageous, intelligent, kind-hearted wizard she’d grown to love more than she’d ever thought possible.

She knew though, that none of that would be helpful, and that it was only a matter of time before the Malfoy patriarch was gone from this world, and what was currently left of his rapidly-declining person wasn’t worth the effort. No, instead she would channel her energy into helping Draco come to terms with this encounter, and accept the death of his father when that day eventually came. Perhaps then he would finally be free of all of it – the anger and resentment, the deep-seated disappointment, the feelings of betrayal and abandonment. Maybe then he could fully embrace the milestones he had achieved over the past year and a half, and be truly proud of himself and the man he’d become, and pursue a life that would make him happy, instead of feeling like his father’s shadow still loomed over him.

When the storm subsided, and he seemed to have calmed, she gently pulled away and cradled his face between her palms. He was reluctant to meet her gaze, clearly embarrassed by his crying jag, but she would have none of it, bending down as much as possible while still seated in his lap, forcing him to look at her. The pain and sorrow and doubt she saw in the depths of those pewter orbs pierced her to the core.

“I love you,” she said, knowing her own eyes were just as glassy and bloodshot as his own, and once he saw that for himself, he seemed slightly alarmed and his concern for her overtook his own discomfort.

“Hermione,” her name was a question, but she shook her head, and brushed her lips against his in a whisper-soft kiss.

“I love you,” she repeated, her forehead resting against his, “And we will get through this. Whatever you are feeling, you have every right to feel it. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and you will come out on the other side of this stronger and surer than you’ve ever been.” She kissed him again, this time more insistently and felt him respond in kind. She knew this wasn’t over; knew there were things Draco would have to sort through and deal with, but right now, she needed to reassure him that nothing had changed. She needed him to know that her opinion of him remained unaltered, and that her heart still belonged to him completely.

His hands slid to her waist and gripped her tightly as she continued to lavish kisses on his lips, his jaw, his neck. He reacted with his own trail of nips and licks starting at her ear and descending to her shoulder and back up again. Their movements were fluid and unhurried, but backed by a fire that surprised both of them, considering the circumstances. When his mouth found hers again, his hands moved from her hips to her face, which he cupped between them and stared adoringly into her chocolate depths before capturing her lips once more and sinking his fingers into her curls. She melted further into him, content to let him take whatever he needed from her in that moment. He kissed her until she was a breathless, quivering mess, and then pulled her into his embrace, whispering his love and appreciation for her over and over.

They stayed like that for a while, and he was able to sort through a few more of his thoughts about the visit with Lucius. He wondered if perhaps his own apology came from a place of regret over missed opportunities, and she agreed that it was quite possible. He asked if it was cruel and heartless of him to be relieved that it was over; that he’d never have to see the man again, and she reassured him that it was not. She encouraged him to seek out his mother the next day, however, as she was surely dealing with her own issues, on top of being worried about him, and he promised he would. Their quiet conversation continued as the flames in the hearth began to die down, and eventually their words faded away as well.

After a bit, Draco broke the comfortable silence with a long-overdue thought.

“We should probably get some sleep,” he murmured into her temple.

A lazy, disparaging grunt was the only response he received, but it made him chuckle, something he hadn’t done much in recent days, and he shifted slightly, as if about to stand up with her still in his lap.

“Fiiiiiine,” she whinged, sliding off her comfortable perch and attempting to straighten her clothes a bit before walking across the Manor. Another low snigger rumbled through the air as Draco heaved himself off the couch as well and intertwined his fingers with hers. The halls were silent, which was no surprise as it was well after midnight, and they strolled through the carpeted corridor in no particular hurry. Eventually, they came to Hermione’s door and he brought their still-connected hands up to press a kiss to her knuckles. He stared at her for several beats, long enough to make her squirm and she cocked her head in question.

“What?” she asked with impish curiosity.

He shook his head and smiled, a deep and sincere one, as he drank in the way she looked. Her riotous curls were even more chaotic than usual after he’d been digging his fingers into their glossy depths, her eyes were sparkling with that unquenchable light that was just so _her_ , and her cheeks were turning a rosier shade of pink by the second as he continued to watch her. She was beautiful. It wasn’t just an outward, physical beauty, either. She shone from within, her compassionate heart and genuine nature radiating from every pore, and he absolutely adored her. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve her, but he knew he’d never be able to survive without her.

“I love you,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her, and though they’d just had a rather lengthy and involved snog session in the sitting room, this kiss was different. It was softer than those before, yet deeper. He hoped she understood the depth of his feelings for her as he poured every bit of it into the kiss, knowing his heart was fully and entirely within her grasp. It hadn’t been his own for some time now, but for whatever reason, the events of the past few hours had made just how strongly he felt, just how overwhelmingly lost to her he was, even more pronounced.

She seemed to grasp his intentions, and returned the kiss with equally gentle fervor. Reluctantly, she pulled away after a bit and caressed his cheek with her hand.

“Weren’t you the one who said we needed to get some sleep?” she teased.

“Yes, I suppose I did,” he huffed a dramatic sigh, “Do you need anything before I turn in?”

“No,” she shook her head and popped up on her toes to kiss him one more time, “I’ll see you in the morning.” She paused and considered her words, “Well, later in the morning, I guess.”

He grinned, “Yes, later. Sleep well, love.”

“You, too,” she managed around a stifled yawn as she stepped over the threshold of her room and smiled at him as she closed the door.

Draco strolled down the hall the few steps it took to get to his own rooms, his mind again swirling with all manner of thoughts from the incredibly long, mentally exhausting day he’d had. This time, however, he didn’t feel nearly as weighed down by it all. The churning and roiling in his gut had ceased, as had the firestorm of rage and despair that had clenched his heart to the point of making it hard to breathe. No, now, as he considered the events of his encounter with Lucius, he could do it from a distance, as if a barrier had been placed between them and he was now able to think on it from a more objective standpoint.

He knew exactly how that had occurred, and there absolutely _was_ a barrier between them. A barrier that came in the form of a petite, Muggleborn witch who promised to stick by him, come what may, and who had already lightened his burden considerably. Hermione was right; he would be fine. _They_ would be fine. There was still a rough patch of road to be navigated in the near future, but they would tread it together, and come out even better on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! And Happy Start of a New Month! I'm sorry I'm kicking it off with such a heavy chapter. I truly do feel sorry for Draco and the mess he has to sort through (even though I'm the one making him do it!). I think the impending death of a parent or family member, particularly one estranged from you, is difficult enough on any level, but when you add in his suffocating upbringing and the disastrous events of the last few years... that's just a lot for anyone to sort through and deal with. He'll get there - though not without a bit more angst to come - and it will all work out in the end :) Thanks so much for reading and commenting! <3


	59. Forging Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home again, Hermione plans for an upcoming trip, and Draco gets snarky.

Back to work the next week, Hermione was preparing for a second trip to the Irish coast, where she would meet once again with representatives from both the Irish and Scottish Ministries. Though Scotland was part of Britain, there was still a small, independent wizarding government set up in the heart of Glasgow to handle the local magical population, so they didn’t always have to traipse into London for common things like portkeys, or shop licenses, or breeding permits for domestic creatures. Their office also handled any issues coming out of Northern Ireland, but since this case pertained to the part of the country not included in the UK, additional representation was necessary.

The Irish Ministry was located in Dublin, and in very similar manner to the one in London, was hidden in plain sight. Tucked in between Bruxelles Pub and Molten Brown Beauty Supply stands a rather nondescript, red brick storefront. To the general public, the dark windows and lack of signage means it’s an empty, unused space, and has been for longer than anyone can remember. To those with magic, it’s the entrance to their branch of government, and one simply has to stand on the slightly-crumbling front steps in order to be ushered inside. There is also a second entrance around the back, where an old, rusted, and seemingly immovable dumpster sits beside the wall. If someone with a wand were to approach the metal container, a small door would appear to grant them entrance.

Hermione learned these tidbits on her first visit towards the end of February, and was sorely disappointed to have such a limited amount of time to spend exploring the bustling city and learning about its magical population. She had peppered her host with questions, much to the middle-aged witch’s amusement, since not many people were so interested in the goings on in what was typically considered the mundane world of wizarding bureaucracy. Then again, the Gryffindor Princess was not “many people.”

For this second visit, the representatives of each government would meet on the coast of Meenlaragh, and then apparate out to Tory Island. The remote landmass was barely inhabited, boasting a population of roughly one hundred and forty people, all of whom were Muggles. Needless to say, the trio of magical people had chosen their arrival spot very carefully, so as to make sure they would not be spotted by any of the locals. There was a long-standing legend about sea creatures (similar to that of the Loch Ness Monster), and many residents insisted they had seen the dragon-like water dwellers over the centuries, but the Kelpies had never ventured this far before. At least not within the last two hundred years, according to everything Hermione had read, which had been quite a lot.

As she prepared for her trip to the tiny island, her thoughts often wandered back to Draco and everything that had transpired in recent days. She had stayed at the Manor for most of Sunday, sleeping later than normal since they had been up so late the night before. He, however, had gotten up at a much more respectable time in order to find Narcissa and have the conversation Hermione had urged him to. He sought her out when it was over, and filled her in over warm buttered rolls and steaming cups of tea in his little sitting room, while they watched sporadic snow flurries blow past the window.

Narcissa had assured Draco that she was fine, or at least as fine as could be expected under such circumstances. She explained how, ever since her trial, she had been working through the myriad of emotions she’d previously stifled and tamped down over the years with regards to her husband. She’d been very, _very_ angry with Lucius, starting all the way back when he participated in the horrid events at the World Cup, where that poor Muggle family had been tortured. Her ire had only grown as his determination to work his way up in the Dark Lord’s ranks became clear, and she’d actually been relieved when he’d been apprehended at the Ministry the night the prophecy was lost. She’d thought perhaps that would knock some sense into him; help him to see that this was not the right path for him to pursue, and that it would only continue to bring trouble.

When Lucius returned home, she’d begged and pleaded, threatened and cried, and none of it made any difference. By that time, he had fallen from Voldemort’s good graces, and she knew his punishment would be severe. What she hadn’t counted on, was the use of her son as means of humiliating her once-proud husband. The terror she felt when it became clear, what the nose-less psychopath intended to do, she’d almost attacked him herself, but she knew that would only make it worse for Draco. From that day on, she barely spoke to Lucius, preferring to pretend he wasn’t there at all, for as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t. Not in any way that counted, at least. She threw all her efforts into protecting her son, who was more important to her than her own life, and she would do everything within her power to ensure he lived a long and happy one.

After her acquittal, during the first several months of her house arrest, she had a lot of time to think. In fact, once Draco left for school, since she had no wand and wasn’t allowed any visitors other than Harry, time was _all_ she had. Her emotions took her on the expected rollercoaster ride, where one day she was ragingly furious, and the next a sobbing puddle of despair. She was angry, despondent, guilt-ridden, and mortified. She had bouts of severe depression, panic attacks, and violent tantrums. For days on end she would wallow in grief, and suddenly switch to steel-spined determination. Her moods were so erratic, she even contemplated if she might be going mad. In the end, though, after some of the most gut-wrenchingly honest conversations she’d ever had in her life – and with the Boy Who Lived, no less – she was able to put it all behind her and embrace the second chance that she’d been given.

Draco had marveled at his mother’s quiet strength, and had asked several questions about her inner journey, the most pressing being whether she forgave Lucius or not.

“Forgive him?” she considered that for a moment, “I forgive him for being blinded by his own selfish ambitions. I forgive him for choosing the wrong side, because I know he honestly thought it was the right one. I don’t know that I’m quite ready to forgive him for handing you over to Voldemort, nor do I know that I ever will be, but I’m no longer filled with hate or bitterness towards him. If anything, I pity him.”

Draco hadn’t known what to do with all of that at first, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he, too, pitied his father. The man was going to die soon, alone (save for the inmates or staff members that might be nearby), without ever having managed a decent relationship with his son, and having lost the love and respect of his wife. He had no legacy to pass on, the last major act of his life having been a complete and utter failure, and no one left would remember him in a positive light. He understood, then, that the sentiment he’d returned to his father’s apology had been one of remorse for the chances that had been lost. It was no surprise to him that Hermione had been right about that; she usually was.

He’d shared all of this with her, and then asked if they could shelve the melancholy topic for the time being. He wanted to enjoy the few hours he had left with her, wanted to go back up to the castle with his mind clear and forward-focused again, and she had agreed whole-heartedly. They spent the rest of the day visiting with Narcissa and Andromeda, playing with Teddy, and planning for future gatherings, including one with her parents over the Easter break roughly two months hence. Everyone had been in much brighter spirits by the time Hermione had to leave, and their goodbye kiss was one of hopeful sweetness and the promise of brighter days ahead.

The curly-haired witch shook her head to clear the haze of memories as she refocused her attention on the parchment in front of her. She was very grateful for the time she’d been able to spend with Draco and his family over the weekend, even though the circumstances were far less than ideal. When Narcissa had hugged her at the end of the day, she had thanked her for coming over and for being there for her son. Hermione had been adamant about her desire to help all of them in any way she possibly could, and that she firmly believed that’s what family was for. She didn’t need to spell it out for the older witch; they were her family now, too, and she knew they regarded her in the same way.

Something niggled in the back of her brain… family… families have traditions… families put down roots… She glanced at the pile of books she’d been using in her search for information about the Kelpie herd, and dug one out from the middle of the stack. Kelpies were not known for being territorial, though they tended to remain within the same parameters throughout their lives, which was why this sudden departure from the norm was attracting the attention of the local authorities. She wondered, though, if at some point in time this particular herd of aquatic creatures had once dwelled in the waters off Tory Island, and over decades and centuries had simply drifted in a northeasterly direction. While it didn’t exactly answer the question of why they were on the move, it might explain their destination.

With this idea firmly in place, she set off on another round of research, though with a more specific fact as her quarry. She only had two days before she’d be meeting with her international counterparts, so time was of the essence. As it was, seven ridiculously large historical tomes, two trips to the archives, countless survey maps, and five cups of coffee later, she found her answer.

Her instincts had been right. The Kelpie herd in question had once lived in the waters off the coast of Tory. According to records from 1574, the sea dragons were often spotted by fisherman roughly two miles offshore. Villagers were forbidden from hunting them, and the creatures never interacted directly with humans. A similar report had been given in 1639, and another in 1682, though that one listed their location as fifteen miles away from land. By 1791, sightings of the elusive animals were almost nonexistent, and it was assumed that they were dying out. In 1853, a fisherman from Portrush claimed he’d spotted a water demon roughly seven miles off the coast. As he was a Muggle, and his report was given to the local law officials, nothing much was done about it. However, news of it reached the small magical population in the area, and a search commenced.

This pattern of random spottings and subsequent follow-ups continued over the past two-hundred-plus years, with the majority of the information confirming the location of the herd to be a short distance away from Rathlin Island. Though they had only traveled roughly one-hundred-twenty kilometers over that time, since the start of the twentieth century, they had been consistently surveyed and categorized as being part of the Scottish waters in that region. Perhaps they had grown tired of being in the same spot, or maybe their food supply had grown scarce. There might have even been some sort of intrinsic pull, drawing them back to their original home. Whatever the cause, the fact that the pod of approximately thirty Kelpies had made the journey in under a month, when the trip away had taken them centuries, was enough to warrant the joint efforts of the Ministries involved, if for no other reason than to make sure the creatures were safe and healthy.

Since neither Hermione, nor her foreign coworkers, had any real knowledge of the biological makeup of the Kelpies, or how to even begin to check on their well-being, she enlisted the help of Rolf Scamander, who was currently working for the Daily Prophet, writing a regular column as a Magizoologist that featured all manner of magical creatures, their unique features and abilities, and their value within the Wizarding community. It was similar to what Theo had been doing for the Quibbler, and both authors had a very specific, dry, witty tone they used in their pieces that she, and many other readers, enjoyed immensely. She knew Rolf had done several articles about aquatic species, and had featured Kelpies on more than one occasion. He was thrilled with the opportunity to visit the herd, and promised he was more than up for the task.

ooOoo

_Good luck tomorrow, love._

_I can’t wait to hear all about it._

_**Thank you! I’ll admit I’m a little nervous.**_

_Why in Merlin’s name would you be nervous?_

_You already met these people two weeks ago!_

_**I know, but now we’re actually going out to Tory, and Rolf is coming.**_

**_I just want it all to go well and for us to get the information we need._ **

_Should I be worried about that?_

**_About what?_ **

_The presence of Mr. Scamander, magical creature extraordinaire?_

_I know how easy it is to win you over with vast intelligence and a breadth of knowledge._

_**Oh, do you, now?**_

_Yes._

_Clearly, I have him beat in the looks department, but even I can admit the man is brilliant._

_**You’re obviously more humble, as well.**_

_Obviously._

_And more amusing._

_And probably more romantic. I can’t imagine a wizard who spends the majority of his time knee-deep in the bog is one for flowery words or extravagant gestures._

**_Well, I can’t speak to Rolf’s romantic tendencies, but I can promise you that you have nothing whatsoever to worry about._ **

**_I prefer my wizards tall, brooding, shockingly pale, and ridiculously jealous._ **

_I’m not jealous. What could I possibly have to be jealous about?_

_**Maybe territorial would have been a better word…**_

**_Or possessive…_ **

_I was an only child._

_I never learned to share._

_**Hello, pot. Meet kettle.**_

_What?_

_**Never mind.**_

_That was a Muggle thing, wasn’t it?_

_**Can’t slip anything by you, can I?**_

_No. You can’t._

_I’m far too astute._

_**Your list of self-declared attributes keeps growing.**_

_Do you disagree?_

_**Not entirely.**_

**_But you’re missing a few._ **

_Oh? Do tell._

_**You’re rather stubborn. And insanely picky.**_

_I am not!_

_**Says Mr. I-need-fluffy-towels.**_

**_And Mr. My-socks-can-only-be-cashmere._ **

**_Oh, and Mr. I-only-drink-500-year-old-Ogden’s._ **

_First of all, there’s nothing wrong with preferring a thick towel. They’re more absorbent._

_Second, blame my mother for my clothing preferences – she set those standards, not me._

_Third, bottom-shelf firewhiskey is rubbish and you know it._

_**You didn’t let me finish**._

_Oh, you’ve got more critical observations to share?_

**_I was going to say you are also extremely creative, thoughtful, kind, and generous._ **

**_Y_** **_ou are a loyal friend, a doting son, and an amazing example to Teddy._ **

**_Your students love you, and you do a fantastic job with them, both in and out of the classroom._ **

**_You are compassionate and brave, and tireless in your efforts to show the world you’ve changed._ **

_Well, when you put it like that..._

**_You are a wonderful wizard, Draco Malfoy, and a better man than the majority I’ve encountered._ **

**_You are the reason I smile every day and I will never stop being thankful for who you are to me, and the opportunity I’ve been given to love you._ **

_Hermione…_

_I don’t even know what to say…_

**_So, back to your original question, no, you have nothing to worry about with regards to Rolf or any other bloke who might cross my path._ **

**_They could never compare._ **

_I love you, you swotty little witch._

_More than you can possibly know._

_**I do know.**_

**_And I love you, too._ **

_Tomorrow will go swimmingly. (Ha-ha. Because, you know, water creatures…)_

_Write me when it’s over._

_**Such a comedian.**_

**_I will!_ ** ****

_Goodnight, then._

_Dream of me._

_**I always do.**_

**_Xoxoxo_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! This chapter was slightly shorter than the last few, and was a bit of a filler as we get back into somewhat of a normal routine for our favorite couple. Everyone knows what's looming in the not-so-far-off distance, but they still have jobs to do and lives to live in the meantime. I love their journal entries and the witty back-and-forth between the two of them <3 I hope everyone is surviving the week, staying safe and healthy, and finding something to smile about each day! :)


	60. Spring Has Sprung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Neville plan for the next Game Night, and Hagrid lets them in on a little secret.

March truly did come in, as the old farmers’ proverb states, _like a lion_ , with sheets of freezing rain, tree-bending winds, and teeth-rattling, frigid temperatures. Draco almost held off starting Quidditch practices at the start of the month when the very first week consisted of constant downpours that led to frozen puddles and patches all over the grounds by morning. He knew, however, that his four house teams would be positively apoplectic if he told them to wait, and so instead offered the “forest classroom” for their use instead of the pitch. He didn’t need whole handfuls of students coming down with weather-induced illnesses; Madam Pomfrey would have his head.

By the second week, things had cleared up and he was able to hold practices on their normal nights, and schedule scrimmages on Saturday and Sunday, giving all the teams equal opportunity to play against one another, and run drills in a regular setting. He’d planned the first match of the Spring intentionally to take place on the third weekend of the month, so his former housemates could all be there to watch, as it coincided with their traditional Game Night gatherings. He didn’t realize how much he looked forward to their regular get-togethers until they’d had to forego the one in February. Obviously he missed Hermione, but that was a daily occurrence, and reaching the end of the previous month without having seen Theo and Luna, or Daphne, or Dean, had left him feeling rather bereft. He was happy to know he was not alone in his sentiments when he mentioned it to Neville, who agreed wholeheartedly and said it felt like a holiday had been cancelled or something, even though the friendly herbologist had met up with the majority of their group at the Leaky that weekend.

“It wasn’t the same at all,” Neville complained, “Don’t get me wrong, it was great to catch up with most of the gang, but a couple of hours at the pub isn’t anywhere near as good as a whole weekend together. Plus, we were missing you, Hermione, Daphne, Anthony was over an hour late, and Hannah actually had to work, so she was only able to stop by the table and chat for a few minutes at a time.”

“Well, hopefully this weekend will make up for it,” Draco offered as the two young staff members made their way down to the village to pick up snacks and drinks on Thursday night.

“What are we going to do about April?” Neville asked. “The Easter hols take place over the third weekend.”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Draco admitted, “Well, I have thought about the break; Hermione and her parents are supposed to be coming to the Manor for Easter weekend, but I didn’t consider the actual dates.” They trudged along in silence, both considering the possible ways to handle the situation.

“We could have our Game Night the weekend before,” Neville mused aloud.

“True, though the students will start heading home Sunday, so there’s no guarantee we’d get to see all our Seconds,” Draco pointed out.

“What about the last weekend of the month?”

“That could work, although that’s the match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. As long as they don’t mind being up here for another game weekend,” his words trailed off and Neville nodded in understanding.

“Is Harry having another party over the break?” the sandy-haired wizard wondered.

“Not sure. I know he wants to spend as much time as possible with Ginny, since she’s supposed to have that week off,” again, Neville hummed in acknowledgement.

The pair made their usual rounds: Honeydukes, Sweet Spells, and the Three Broomsticks, where all manner of tempting goodies were picked out, boxed up, and sent back to the castle. They dropped in, as was customary, at Gladrags to see if Daphne was around, which she was, and spent the last hour before the shop officially closed chatting with her about her recent international tour.

“While I absolutely could have done without the not-so-subtle jabs from my mother about my life choices, or the constant running commentary about eligible wizards and the importance of a suitable match, the trip itself was more enjoyable than I’d anticipated.” She locked the front door and dimmed the outside lights with a flick of her wand, and fell in step with her two friends as they headed towards the Three Broomsticks. Thursday was typically steak-and-kidney-pie night, which sounded wonderful to all three of them, and over steaming bowls of the homemade casserole, Daphne continued her tale.

“Our time in Paris was rather uneventful, but Milan was interesting. The fashions there are much more modern than here, and I really enjoyed looking at the latest designs. My mother found almost everything I picked out to be scandalous, which Tori and I couldn’t stop laughing about. I mean honestly, what difference does two inches possibly make on a hem? And who decided magenta was a “suggestive” color?” The pretty blonde was giggling as she spoke, “Clearly, any witch who goes out in brightly-hued robes might as well stamp the word “floozy” on her forehead. And Merlin forbid she wear anything with short sleeves!”

Draco and Neville chuckled, more at their friend’s obvious amusement than the idea of the fashions themselves, but they both agreed with Daphne. Robes, on the whole, were very traditional (which was a nice way of saying _boring_ ), and not nearly as comfortable as other articles of clothing. Even the Slytherin Prince could admit he favored knit jumpers and more casual trousers during his time off these days. The most modern version any of them had ever seen growing up had been the silky, blue version the Beaxbaton witches had worn during Fourth Year, and that had been quite eye-opening. Draco sniggered to himself, knowing exactly how Daphne’s mother would have responded to the grand entrance the foreign delegates had made into the Great Hall that night.

“So, of course, both Tori and I picked out several jewel-toned sets, and Mother could hardly refuse, since the entire purpose of the trip – according to her – had been to update our wardrobes,” Daphne’s smile turned wickedly gleeful, “I went with turquoise and plum, but Tori chose a set just a shade off the magenta, and another in a deep crimson. I wish I could be there to see what happens the first time my sister tries to wear either of them out of the house.”

All of them were laughing heartily at that when a familiar form entered the half-empty tavern.

“Hagrid!” Neville called out and waved the genial gamekeeper over.

“Well, wha’ brings you lot down here?” Hagrid asked as he thumped heavily down into one of the sturdy wooden chairs he’d dragged up to the table.

“Supplies for our Game Night,” Draco explained, “And then we stopped by to see Daphne. You?”

“Eh, well, I had ter go into Diagon ter get wood lice and Fairy eggs fer the Bowtruckles, and then I needed ter see if I could find some steaks,” Hagrid explained before turning and waving to Rosmerta, signaling for a drink.

“Steaks?” Neville prodded, “What kind of steaks?”

Even in the dim light of the pub, they could see the tops of Hagrid’s cheeks turn pink, and his eyes shifted from side to side as if making sure no one was listening. He leaned forward conspiratorially, and the others did the same in order to hear what he was about to say.

“I’ve got a new… er… a new subject. Fer my Sixth and Seventh years. But it eats a lot, and I’ve already gone through the crate I bough’ last week.”

“Hagrid,” Draco’s eyes narrowed, “What exactly is this new subject of yours?”

“Well, er, it’s… it’s an Erumpent. But yeh can’t tell anyone!”

“A… a _what_?” Daphne was incredulous.

“Hagrid, those are dangerous!” Neville’s voice had gone up an octave and he sounded much more like his constantly-terrified younger self.

“Does McGonagall know?” shrewd, silver eyes pinned the half-giant in place.

“Well, yeh see, I was plannin’ ter introduce them to the beasts only in theory. Maybe with a big model, or summat, but then a friend of mine said he had access to a baby one, and I thought…” Hagrid’s words trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck, a guilty look in his beetle-black eyes.

“A baby one,” Draco drawled, “Obviously, that’s fine then.” He rolled his eyes, but the message was lost on his earnest tablemate.

“See? That’s exactly what I thought,” Hagrid brightened considerably, “They don’t turn violent till they’re old enough ter mate, and their horns don’t explode for a bit, neither.”

“Oh, good. That’s a relief,” Neville deadpanned, earning snorts from his former housemates.

“Where are you keeping it?” Daphne was curious.

“Oh, in a paddock out behind me hut,” Hagrid explained, “Built a shelter in it and everything. He seems right chuffed with it; he just eats a lot. He an’ Fang get along great. They’re ‘bout the same size.”

The trio of younger diners exchanged exasperated, amused, and mildly worried glances as they considered this information and what it could possibly mean for all involved.

“How long do you plan to keep it?” Draco asked, his mind trying to piece together a plan that would allow Hagrid to teach the lessons, and then get the magical creature sent off to a much more appropriate location as quickly as possible.

“Jus’ a week or two,” a dustbin lid-sized hand waved airily, as if it was of no consequence. “Tomorrow’s the first lesson with ‘im. I’d like to do a total of three, maybe four, dependin’ on how much they’re able to observe an’ all.”

“And then what will you do with him?” Neville wondered.

“I’m jus’ supposed to owl my friend, and he’ll come pick ‘im up and take ‘im to the reserve, where he was headed in the firs’ place.” Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders as if everything was settled. “You lot should come take a look at ‘im on yer way back ter the castle.” His eyes were sparkling with excitement at the idea, and they all knew they couldn’t refuse.

Talk turned to other subjects as they enjoyed their meal, and once everyone was properly stuffed and sated, they made their way back up the winding path to the school, Daphne included, since she wasn’t about to miss out on seeing Hagrid’s latest acquisition. Though it was well past sundown, their way was illuminated by three wands and the gamekeeper’s lantern, all of which cast more than enough light on the paddock behind his home. There, unmistakable to anyone even remotely familiar with the rare and unique creature, stood a small Erumpent, happily rolling a large log around the enclosed space.

Its skin was a dark grey, and it was roughly the size of a baby rhinoceros, with its famous horn, a lighter and almost shiny shade of grey, protruding from its forehead. At this stage of development, it looked much less dangerous than it could potentially be as a full-grown adult, and all three recent graduates let out sighs of relief as this consensus was reached in their minds.

“Oscar, c’mere,” Hagrid called, beckoning to the animal with a wave of his hand and a thump on the top rail of the fence.

Oscar looked up and seemed to realize there were new faces present, and quickly forgot his log in favor of trotting over to inspect his visitors. Reflexively, the guests stepped backwards as he came closer, but the young Erumpent stopped several paces away from the wooden barrier and turned so he could peer at them fully with one eye.

“Thas righ’,” Hagrid encouraged him with a rumbling laugh, “Come and meet ‘em. They jus’ wanted ter say hullo.” He motioned for them to move forward again, which they did, Neville even going so far as to rest his arms on the rail and lean forward to get a better look.

“He seems fairly docile,” Draco observed as the creature inched towards them, snuffling loudly as he approached.

“He is, he is,” Hagrid assured them, “He’s a big ol’ baby. Jus’ wants ter play and waller around all day.” He chortled and peered at his guests with a bit of a challenge, “Yeh can pet ‘im. He likes that alrigh’.”

“Umm…” Daphne wasn’t too keen on it, but Neville stretched a hand out over the fence and true enough, Oscar came closer and turned around so his back was right under the friendly Gryffindor’s palm. Neville scratched up and down the spine of the thick-skinned animal, who was emitting soft grumbling noises that almost sounded like grunts of contentment.

“See?” Hagrid insisted gleefully, “Go on, Malfoy. Yeh don’t even have ter bow.”

Neville and Daphne burst out laughing at the small dig, and Draco, after huffing theatrically, sniggered as well, knowing he’d been an absolute prat to both Hagrid and Buckbeak that day back in Third Year. In an attempt to prove he’d truly changed, he joined Neville in petting the remarkable beast. With all the attention being lavished on him, Oscar had moved closer and closer until he was right up alongside the paddock wall, and Daphne crouched down to meet his eye between the rails.

“Hello, there,” she said cheerfully, though still not quite willing to stick her hand in, “You have lovely blue eyes.” It was true; Oscar’s eyes were a startling shade of cerulean that could not really be seen from any great distance, and was probably regularly overlooked in comparison to his impressive horn. He seemed to understand the compliment, though, and made a sound similar to a hum and blinked slowly at her, as if acknowledging her favorable assessment.

Just then, a small commotion was heard behind them, and they all turned to see Fang banging open the back door of Hagrid’s hut and bounding straight for them. He paused only long enough to sniff around Neville and Draco’s feet, and swipe Daphne’s cheek with his long, pink tongue, before wriggling under the bottom rung of the fence and entering the paddock. Immediately, Oscar’s new friends were forgotten, replaced with the presence of his playmate, and the two animals set about chasing each other around the small enclosure. Fang was faster, but gangly and loping, while Oscar galloped at a slower but smoother pace. They circled the abandoned log a handful of times before Fang bumped into it and set it rolling. All at once, that became the new game, with each of them trying to push it farther than the other in a funny attempt at keep-away.

Their audience watched for a while, chatting about and laughing at the antics of the two in the pen, but eventually it was time for everyone to head to their respective homes. Bidding Hagrid farewell, and thanking him for a most entertaining evening, Draco and Neville walked Daphne back to the path that lead to the village, though she insisted they didn’t need to. They even waited until she’d reached the bottom of the hill and turned to wave, before making their own way back up to the castle.

“So, we should probably check back in with Hagrid next week to make sure he’s still on track to return Oscar,” Neville suggested.

“Too right,” Draco agreed with a snort, “Hopefully he won’t have come to the conclusion that the Forbidden Forest would make a suitable home for an Erumpent by then.”

“I should have known last year was too calm and ordinary,” Neville complained.

“What do you mean?” pale brows rose in question.

“Well, last year was the first year there honestly wasn’t something crazy going on here. No three-headed dog, no basilisk, no escaped prisoner, no insane tournament, no ministry hag, no Death Eaters,” he paused abruptly as he realized what he’d said.

“No, you’re absolutely right,” Draco assured him, “Sixth Year was horrible and disastrous, and entirely my fault. And I had more than I care to admit to do with some of the other events mentioned, as well.”

Neville stopped walking and grabbed Draco’s arm to halt him in his tracks, “No, it was _not_ entirely your fault.” The tall blonde opened his mouth to protest, but his companion barreled on, “It was not your fault that you were given an impossible task, on pain of death. It was not your fault that Dumbledore died, or even that Voldemort’s cronies got into the school. Do you really think they wouldn’t have found another way in if you hadn’t managed to fix the cabinet?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but forged ahead, “The most anyone can truly blame you for is the fact that you didn’t ask for help – that you didn’t go to Dumbledore or the Order or anyone who might have been able to get you out of those hellish circumstances, but that’s it. Fear blinds us to reality, and everything you did that year was out of a level of fear for your own life and your mother's that I can’t even begin to fathom.”

Taken aback by the forceful speech given by his usually mild-mannered friend, Draco stood there, stunned and at a loss for words. Neville released his grip on the pale wizard’s arm and clapped him on the shoulder instead, “Anyone who can’t see that, or who won’t accept it, isn’t worth your time. For the record, Dumbledore knew all year what you were up to, and yet he did nothing, insisting it was all part of some bigger plan. Well, for as much as I admired and respected the man, I think that’s rubbish. You should never have been left to shoulder that on your own, just like Harry should never have been sent out to search for horcruxes without all the information available to him.”

Neville’s hazel eyes were flashing with a combination of fury and insistence, and Draco had never seen the former target of his bullying days so worked up in conversation. The budding herbologist took several steadying breaths and a sheepish expression replaced the tight-jawed indignation that had previously colored his face.

“Hit a nerve there, yeah?” Draco attempted to lighten the moment, though he’d been deeply touched by the sentiments shared.

Neville chuckled dryly, “Apparently.” He shrugged and they resumed their trek up the lawn. “I’ve thought a lot over the last year or so about all of it, especially after reading the articles and books that have been written about everything in the wake of the war. I’ve also talked with Harry a bit, and it’s clear that Dumbledore wasn’t nearly as helpful as he could have been along the way. Whether his involvement would have brought about different circumstances, or even a different ending?” He shrugged again, “I don’t know, but I think he did Harry a massive disservice by keeping so much from him. And I think he did the same to you, leaving you to struggle all year like that.” He sighed deeply and looked up at the star-filled sky, “I can’t let myself dwell on it overmuch, otherwise I start to get really angry, and what good is that? Can’t change any of it now, y’know?”

“Yes, I do,” Draco agreed emphatically. Wasn’t this exactly what he’d been wrestling with in regards to his father? Rehashing conversations and events, replaying certain moments or words over and over, did it honestly do any good? The bottom line answer was _no_ , it did not.

Feeling like somehow a little bit more of the weight he’d been carrying around since his visit with Lucius had been lifted, he huffed a breath and glanced sideways at his coworker who was clearly still tangled up in his own thoughts.

“Thanks, Neville,” he said sincerely.

“For what?”

“For reminding me that I’m not the sum of my mistakes. For being willing to see past the awful things I did; the abominable person I was. For understanding what it’s like to have to force yourself to let certain things go,” he shrugged, knowing it was less eloquent than he might usually be capable of, but he felt Neville got it all the same.

“Anytime,” the sandy-haired wizard was silent for several beats before a small smirk appeared on his face. “It’s still a bit of a novelty, isn’t it?”

“What?” Draco asked, completely bemused.

“That it’s over, and life moved on. That we all somehow survived and have managed to do something worthwhile now. I know I never would have predicted becoming friends and staff members with the high-and-mighty heir of the House of Malfoy,” he sniggered and Draco couldn’t help joining in.

“Ah, yes, got knocked off my pedestal, I guess, didn’t I? Tossed out of my ivory tower?”

“Pretty much! But it’s nicer down here with all us commoners anyway, wouldn’t you say?”

As they reached the wide stone steps to the castle, the light from the mullioned windows spilling out to welcome them, Draco grinned and nodded, “Yeah, it is, mate. It definitely is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my literary friends! I hope everyone's weekend was decent and that the start of this new week finds you safe and healthy and still sane amidst the insanity of the world at the moment.   
> I so do love Hagrid, and was looking for a way to squeeze him into the story, so this chapter is my nod to the kind-hearted character. I also adore conversations like the one between Neville and Draco - it shows how far they have come, but that they still have stuff to work through (as would be expected for anyone who endured what they did). And Neville's comments about Dumbledore may or may not reflect my own irritation with the late headmaster ;)   
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me! Wishing you all a productive Monday! <3


	61. Impromptu Proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eighth Years are back together, and their weekend starts off with a big surprise.

The ten former housemates descended once again on the Hogwarts grounds the third weekend in March. Having missed their usual gathering in February, it seemed all of them were especially eager to kick this one off, and started arriving quite a bit earlier than usual. So early, in fact, that by the time Draco and Neville had finished classes that Friday afternoon, they were almost the very last ones to get to the Room, followed only by Padma, who came rushing down the hall behind them, explaining she’d needed to get an article turned in before the deadline otherwise she would have gotten there sooner.

The noise and chatter, movement and laughter that typically accompanied their get-togethers was already alight when the final three stepped over the threshold. Draco immediately looked around for a familiar head of riotous curls and spotted Hermione on the couch, talking animatedly with Daphne. Her back was to him and he took the opportunity to sneak up behind her and swoop down, placing a very loud kiss on her cheek and earning himself a shriek of surprise as she practically fell off the sofa.

“Draco!” she exclaimed, giggling and smiling, but smacking his arm in retaliation, “Don’t scare me like that.’

“But it’s so much fun,” he pouted and hopped out of the way before she could poke him in the ribs. “Need to go drop this off,” he hefted his bag up and strode off to put it in his chamber, only to be joined a half-dozen paces away by Theo.

“Hey there,” the lanky brunette grinned at him and fell into step beside him as he continued on towards his bedroom.

“How’s things?” Draco asked as they entered his space and he dropped the small piece of luggage on his bed. With a flick of his wand, it was unzipped and articles of clothing began zooming off to their respective drawers.

“Good, good, can’t complain,” Theo leaned against the doorframe with a look that seemed entirely casual, but Draco sensed something was brewing beneath the laid-back surface.

“Anything on your mind? Any news to share?” he prodded, a pale brow cocked in question.

Theo glanced over his shoulder, back to the common area where everyone else was gathered, and then stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him. Draco simply watched, his wand now sending his toiletries to the top of his dresser, and his shoes underneath it.

“I… I have a bit of news, yes,” Theo began and then started pacing up and down the small stretch of space in front of the window, his hands shoved in his pockets, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Draco let him carry on like this for a few seconds before finally asking, “Am I supposed to guess? Is this like charades? Is the pacing a clue?”

Theo stopped and glowered at him before flinging his head back and blinking at the ceiling above him, muttering something to the aged surface.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Draco snarked, closing his now-empty bag and floating it over to its spot under the nightstand.

“I’m going to propose to Luna,” the words were much louder and perfectly clear this time, and so unexpected, Draco lost concentration and his bag flopped to the ground halfway to its destination.

“What?” was all he could come up with in response, shocked as he was.

“Luna,” Theo pinned him with a firm glare, “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Slate-grey eyes blinked owlishly at dark brown for several beats before a slow grin spread across the blonde wizard’s face, “Well, alright then.”

“Yeah?” Theo seemed unsure.

“Absolutely. Caught me off guard, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” Draco shrugged.

A _whoosh_ of breath left the other young man and his shoulders visibly slumped with relief, “Merlin, I was thinking you were going to tell me I was barmy.”

“Well, I’ve always thought you were barmy,” Draco snorted, resuming putting his bag away and then sprawling out on his bed, a smirk aimed at his childhood friend.

“Har, har,” Theo huffed as he sank into the chair by the window. “I know we talked about this several months back, and I really was just taking things one day at a time, but Xeno’s actually set a date to head off on his world-wide expedition, and I just…” his words trailed off and he gave a shrug. “I know in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t change anything, given our current circumstances, but I want to do the thing properly. And I want her father to be there for it. I already asked him for his blessing, which he gave without hesitation and with the gift of a gurdyroot that I’m supposed to plant outside our bedroom window, at the first full moon after our engagement, for good luck.”

Both young men chuckled and shook their heads at the never-ending oddities of Xenophilius Lovegood.

“When is he leaving?” Draco asked.

“April thirteenth,” Theo rolled his eyes, “It’s a Thursday, and he chose it for something to do with the alignment of the planets and the blooming of the screechsnaps, both of which are supposed to indicate successful travel.”

Draco couldn’t help the snigger that escaped and Theo simply nodded emphatically in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, so, I was thinking I’d propose this weekend, and then see if we could pull a small ceremony off sometime the week before he goes.”

“Oh, wow,” pale brows shot up in mild surprise, “So you’re doing this _now_.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of clarification, and another firm nod of Theo’s head confirmed it. “When?”

“Tonight, at dinner. I’ve asked the Kitchen Elves to prepare a special pudding, one of Luna’s favorites, and I’ve made sure the ring will be on top of it when it’s placed in front of her.”

Draco was grinning as he envisioned the plan unfolding, “That’s brilliant, mate.”

“Yeah?” a flash of uncertainty flickered across Theo’s face, “She’ll say yes, won’t she?”

“Of course! How could you possibly doubt it?”

“I don’t… not really… I think maybe she even knows it’s coming. You know how she is. But it’s still unnerving.”

“I’m sure it is,” Draco sat up quickly, an idea popping into his head, “We’ll need to celebrate after. I’ll get champagne.”

“Oh, I already brought some,” Theo turned smug.

“Not too worried about the outcome, then,” was the snarky response.

“I guess not. Or maybe I planned to drown my humiliated sorrows if she turned me down.”

“Need any help with anything else for it?” Draco offered.

“Nah, just wanted to make sure I hadn’t completely lost the plot,” Theo stood and thumped his friend on the shoulder as he made his way towards the door, “We should get back out there before they wonder where we’ve gone.”

Nodding his agreement, Draco pushed off the bed and followed his former housemate back into the noisy common area, a feeling of genuine happiness rising up in him as he considered the big step his long-time friend was about to take. There was the tiniest twinge of envy behind it, as there had been with Harry’s engagement to Ginny, too. He knew that day would come for Hermione and him; he just sometimes wished circumstances were different so it could arrive sooner. Spotting his favorite witch across the way, he couldn’t help smiling as he watched her interact with the others. He knew she was the one for him, and when the moment was right, he wanted it all to be perfect for her.

ooOoo

Dinner was its usual rowdy, amusing, nonstop self, with news shared and jokes told and an abundance of laughter all around. A few times, Draco cast a fleeting glance at Theo and could tell, even though the lanky brunette was an expert at hiding his true emotions that he was positively on the edge of his seat, waiting for the big moment to arrive. Eventually, the supper plates were vanished, along with the large serving bowls and platters, and were replaced with smaller dessert plates and new utensils. Several delicious-looking cakes, tarts, and trifles appeared down the center of the table, and a particularly lovely chocolate gateau took its spot directly in front of Luna. No one noticed at first, since there were sweets everywhere, but Hannah, who was across from the ethereal blonde, looked up and something sparkly caught her eye.

“Oooh! Luna, look!” Hannah pointed to the beautiful ring, nestled on top of three sugar roses in the center of the cake. The intricate piece consisted of a rose gold band, with a round-cut opal, set in a geometric halo of tiny diamonds that looked like flower petals. It was delicate and whimsical, and perfectly _her_.

“Oh my,” Luna breathed, her blue eyes going even wider than usual, “That’s quite lovely. I wonder who it’s meant for?”

“It’s for you,” Theo said in a quiet voice, a crooked smile spreading across his face as he stood from his seat and plucked the ring from its pretty display with slightly trembling fingers. All conversation immediately stopped as everyone turned their full and rapt attention to the activity at the end of the table.

Theo got down on one knee beside Luna’s chair, the ring carefully held between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, while he gently took her left one with his other.

“Luna, you are my dream come true. You have shown me a world I could never have imagined, and have given me hope when I’d lost all of mine. You are the reason I smile every day; the reason I want to become someone worthwhile; the reason I have stopped looking behind and now only look forward. And what I see when I look ahead to the future is a life with you. I love you more than I thought I could ever be capable of, and I would be the luckiest bloke alive if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife. Will you marry me?”

Total silence reigned for several beats, though tears were trickling down multiple cheeks, and nine pairs of eyes were pinned on the fairy-like blonde who was still processing all that had just been said. After five of the longest seconds of Theo’s life, Luna reached out her free hand to cup his cheek and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. She pulled back just enough to answer his question.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Theo. You didn’t even have to ask.”

The love and adoration clearly visibly on her pretty face was just as apparent as the joyful relief on his, and everyone burst into raucous applause and cheers while the happy couple beamed at each other and whispered words meant for no one else to hear. Theo slide the ring onto her finger, and Draco, knowing where they had been stashed, summoned the bottles of champagne, which then came zooming out of Theo’s old room and set themselves down on the table. Another kiss was exchanged before the corks were popped and glasses filled, and Draco stood and offered a toast to the blissful fiancés.

“To Theo and Luna, who are more perfect for each other than Nifflers and diamonds, and who have shown all of us what wonderful things can happen if we simply let them. May you have all the happiness life has to offer. Congratulations!”

Many “ _hear, hears_ ,” and “ _congratulations_ ,” followed, along with the wiping of faces and clearing of throats. Desserts were being passed around when Theo made another announcement.

“I know this is a bit quick, and I haven’t even had time to discuss it with Luna, obviously,” he flashed an apologetic smirk her way, but she shook her head and simply smiled at him to go on. “I’d like to have a small ceremony before Xeno goes off on his grand tour, which he’s planning to leave for in just under a month, and I’d really like for all of you to be there, too, if you could manage it,” he looked back at Luna and took her hand in his once more, “We both would.”

A chorus of happy affirmation and agreement was heard, and immediately talk turned to dates and arrangements and all the details a wedding might be comprised of. The wizards in the group mostly sat back and listened, interjecting only when called upon, while the witches began planning out the big day. Hermione, as always, started making a list as suggestions were thrown out, and in remarkably short order, it seemed as if everything had been taken care of.

Luna had always wanted to get married by the stream behind her house, so the location was no problem. Hermione would send invitations out to the handful of friends not present, while Hannah volunteered her skills as a photographer. Padma offered to handle all the flowers and decorations, which Anthony jumped on board with, and Dean said he’d be happy to take care of the music. Draco and Neville were glad to continue their role as pseudo-caterers for their group and agreed to get food and drinks for the day, and Daphne absolutely insisted on being allowed to create Luna’s gown.

With all the decisions made, the ten friends moved their party to the sitting area, and settled themselves into more comfortable positions on the couches and chairs in front of the fireplace. Hermione was tucked into Draco’s side, as per usual, and while the rest of the crew was engaged in a lively discussion about Muggle versus Wizarding wedding traditions, he brushed a kiss to a temple and whispered in her ear.

“Would you have said yes?”

She turned to meet his stare, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief, “If Theo asked me to marry him?”

“No, you sassy witch,” he rumbled and she giggled in response, “If I did.”

Her gaze turned soft as she studied his face for a beat or two, “Do you really not know?”

His heart stuttered in his chest as he took in her earnest expression. He did know, and had known on some level for months now, but to hear her voice her own certainty sent his spirits soaring. Perhaps Theo was right, perhaps he was too hung up on his current circumstances. No, he wasn’t about to propose today, or tomorrow, or even next month, but maybe he really didn’t need to wait until his probation was over to set those wheels in motion. That was definitely something to consider, but not right at that moment; not while the most wonderful witch in the world was seated by his side, looking at him with more love than he ever thought he’d deserve. So instead, pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling back and sliding his trademark smirk into place with an air of smug confidence.

“Just wanted to make sure,” he sniffed, and was rewarded with a poke to the ribs that sent him yelping, followed by a kiss on his cheek that forced an automatic grin.

ooOoo

The celebratory atmosphere continued on the next morning as the housemates gathered for breakfast. No official plans had been made for the earlier part of the day, since they all would be joining the rest of the school down at the pitch for the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match. Draco enjoyed a full plate of pancakes, sausage, fried eggs, and ham, along with two cups of coffee and a cinnamon roll the size of his face, before kissing his girlfriend and striding out the door to oversee the pre-game practice and warm-ups.

Daphne had asked Luna if she wouldn’t mind letting her take some measurements and ask a few questions about her preferences when it came to wedding dresses, and so all the girls found themselves in the pretty Pureblood’s chamber later on. She’d transfigured a pillow into a low stool for the bride-to-be to stand on while she employed her magical measuring tape, checking and double-checking the numbers and scribbling it all down on the parchment on her clipboard. Once that was done, the witches gathered together on the rug at the foot of the bed and began discussing designs. Daphne had brought her portfolio of sketches along, just in case she’d had time to work on her latest pieces, and shyly placed them before her friends as possible ideas to use.

“Oooh, these are gorgeous!” Padma exclaimed.

“This blue one is lovely. It reminds me of Paris at Springtime,” Hermione pointed to a specific drawing.

“I love this peach-colored one,” Hannah had picked up the page and was studying it closely.

“What about you, Luna?” Daphne asked the sweet-natured witch, “Do any of these look like something you might want to wear?”

Luna was gazing over the sketches strewn about, her blue eyes roving across each design with deliberate slowness. Several times, her attention seemed to flicker back in a specific direction, but they all waited patiently until she was finished. Once she was, she reached a hand out and picked up a drawing of a long, flowy, yellow gown that looked as light and airy as a Summer cloud.

“I really like this one,” she beamed at Daphne, holding out the parchment towards the young designer, “But I love the sleeves on this one,” she plucked a second sheet from the scattered pile. The dress there was a soft lilac color, with ruffled capped sleeves, as opposed to the longer, more fitted ones on the yellow piece.

“Oh, I can switch the sleeves out, no problem,” Daphne insisted, a proud smile blooming across her face. “Do you want to go with true white? Or more of an antique white? Or a cream?”

As she asked questions, Daphne pulled out her sketchbook and began bringing Luna’s gown to life on the page, stopping every so often to let the former Ravenclaw see what she’d added. In the end, a true work of art graced the parchment, and all four of the witches crowded around the creator with wide eyes and awed whispers.

“Oh, Daph, I can’t wait to see it in person,” Hermione grinned.

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride,” Hannah squeezed Luna’s hand affectionately and Padma echoed the sentiment.

“You all are too sweet,” Luna beamed at them, “I’m so very glad you’ll be there to celebrate with us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Daphne assured her, and then cocked her head in question, “I have to ask, though. Did you suspect anything? Or was it truly a surprise?”

Luna’s lips pursed and an impish glint twinkled in her bright blue eyes, “Well, I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but I had been feeling something big was coming up soon. Theo’s very good at hiding his thoughts or emotions, but he’d been rather distracted lately.” She paused as if remembering something and then continued, “You know, Thursday he was especially flustered. He knocked the sugar bowl over at breakfast, and forgot to feed the Plimpies that afternoon, and before bed he checked the bag he’d packed for this weekend three times.” She giggled lightly and shrugged, “I just didn’t realize it was all leading up to a proposal. I thought maybe he had finally decided to embrace his love of Highland dancing and just didn’t know how to tell me. I’ve always told him he has the perfect legs for a kilt.”

Four pairs of eyes flew wide at this pronouncement, immediately followed by fits of choked laughter as they all imagined the swaggering wizard doing a Scottish jig.

“Oh, Luna, if you ever actually get Theo into a kilt, you absolutely must take pictures,” Daphne wheezed, and the other girls agreed wholeheartedly.

ooOoo

The housemates made their way down to the pitch just after lunch, along with the rest of the faculty and students. The air was still a bit chilly, but the sun was bright and it was as nice a day as one might expect in March in the hills of Scotland. Draco had promised to reserve seats for them behind the commentator’s box, so they headed straight for it upon arriving at the large stadium. Once settled in, Hermione started scanning the vast green space for her favorite wizard, and found him on the sidelines with a couple of Gryffindor players. She recognized Andrew and Olivia even from such a distance, and watched as the two Second Years gestured animatedly about something that sent their coach laughing with genuine amusement.

After they finished whatever story they’d been telling, the youngsters ran off to join the rest of their team and Draco looked up at the stands, honing in on his friends at once. He waved in their general direction and then jogged a little ways off to grab an extra broom that was leaning against a bench. Kicking off, he flew up to greet them, a wide grin on his face as he came closer.

“Seats alright, yeah?” he asked, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze. They all assured him the arrangement was perfect, and he thanked them for coming to watch before inching his broom closer to Hermione and hovering as close to her as possible, with the front of the stands between them.

“A kiss for good luck?” he asked with a glint in his eyes.

“Luck for who? You’re not playing,” she teased.

“Being the coach and referee is dangerous work. Wouldn’t want to get whacked by a beater’s bat, or knocked out by a bludger, would I?” his eyes were round with mock alarm.

“Well, I suppose,” she huffed dramatically and stood up, leaning over the edge and reaching her hand out to grasp his robes. Draco was expecting a quick peck, but Hermione surprised him by pulling him close and placing a long, lingering, brain-addling kiss to his lips. When she pulled away, the smirk gracing her pretty face was positively wicked, whereas Draco looked completely gobsmacked, his cheeks mildly pink, his robes a little rumpled. Catcalls and wolf whistles erupted around them as the students nearby enjoyed the little display.

“Good luck then,” Hermione trilled, waving her fingers at him as she sat back down next to Daphne, who was chortling with glee over the disheveled state of her famously fastidious friend.

Shaking his head, Draco pinned his girlfriend with a look that promised a thoroughly enjoyable form of retribution later, flashed one more grin at the group, and took off back towards the pitch where the teams were lining up to start.

In all six years Hermione had attended Hogwarts, she had never really cared about Quidditch. Sure, she went to cheer Harry on, and later Ron once he made the team, but she only ever attended when Gryffindor was playing, and even then, she didn’t pay full attention to the match. The World Cup had been a unique experience, but again, it wasn’t the sport itself that interested her, but more the coming together of so many foreign witches and wizards, and the arrangements made for the hosting of the event. But now? Now, she couldn’t take her eyes off the tall blonde referee who alternated between standing on the pitch, flying amongst the players, and gesturing from the sideline.

Draco truly was a phenomenal flyer. He zoomed about, between the players, keeping an eye on the formations used, the success of certain maneuvers, and the skill of individual team members. She could see him yelling warnings and reminders at various intervals, and watched the students follow his lead as they kept the match going. When a goal was scored, he was quick to compliment the player responsible, but equally intent on boosting the Keeper’s spirits after they’d let one in. He cut a striking figure in his coaching kit and she found herself longing to card her fingers through his windblown hair and slide his robes off his shoulders. She even asked Hannah to snap a few pictures for her, which the sweet Hufflepuff did with a conspiratorial wink and a knowing smile on her face.

Almost two hours in, with the teams tied, a time-out was taken, and both houses landed on the sidelines to grab water and catch their breath. Coach Malfoy, however, took the opportunity to soar back up to his personal cheering section.

“This is a great game, Draco,” Dean complimented him with a genuine smile, “Their level of skill is leaps beyond what the teams possessed when we were here.”

Draco shrugged as if he had nothing to do with it, but they all knew better. It was clear that he was deeply invested in the teams, and they, in turn, flourished under his instruction.

“It’s almost professional level,” Padma nodded firmly, “I covered Pride of Portree last week, and some of these students fly just as well as their team members.”

“Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are the same,” Neville piped up, “All the teams are top form since Coach Malfoy came on board.”

“Well, thank you, Gardener Longbottom, I appreciate that,” Draco smirked at his coworker and everyone laughed. “I’m sure the budding Herbologists you’re teaching are equally adept at potting and planting and fertilizer selection.” The two wizards nodded at one another in a theatrical display of professionalism that only caused another round of sniggers.

“Coach Malfoy,” the Head Boy, a Ravenclaw by the name of Jinhai, called out, “There’s just a minute left.”

Draco thanked him, winked at Hermione, and flew back down to the center of the pitch where the teams were starting to gather in preparation for the restarting of the match.

The second part of the game was just as exciting as the first, with all of the players flying by at top speed, completing daring maneuvers, and creating impressive forms as they battled one another for every goal. In the end, Slytherin won when their Seeker caught the snitch, which had been hiding near the base of their own center goal post. The teams had been tied once again, so the one-hundred-fifty-point gain was an extra thrill.

Hermione and the rest of the gang made their way down to the field where Draco was surrounded by the emerald and silver players. She’d been very pleased with the new tradition he’d insisted upon, wherein all members of both teams were expected to congratulate each other on a job well done, with handshakes all around, and no hard feelings being taken off the pitch. She knew it was an attempt to further inter-house unity, and it seemed to be working, seeing as the scarlet and gold bunch had left for the locker room with smiles on their faces, too.

Once the team had finally finished recounting their best moments, they took off to change, leaving a clearly exhausted but enthralled referee in their wake. Draco’s grin seemed permanently stamped across his features, and he happily joined the others in their group in rehashing some of the most exciting bits. They all trudged back up to the castle with thoughts of dinner and a relaxing evening firmly fixed in their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This was a long one with lots of stuff crammed in! I love Theo and Luna, and to me they are the "expectedly unexpected" couple of the group, so a surprise proposal, followed by a fairly thrown-together wedding wouldn't be off the mark for them. They'll be the first of any of the characters mentioned in this series to get married, but definitely not the only ones! If you'd like to see the ring the description of Luna's was inspired by, here it is:  
> https://www.jamesallen.com/diamond-rings/round-cut-engagement-rings/1.39-carat-vintage-engagement-ring-1918149?cur=USD&cq_src=google_ads&cq_cmp=833921963&cq_con=63149858873&cq_term=&cq_med=pla&cq_plac=&cq_net=g&cq_pos=&cq_plt=gp&gclid=CjwKCAiAv4n9BRA9EiwA30WND5hLmErWWsYHP9iKwVgvMLWImQ4A1YMtdWpQN6JkA7wlHMtO80YuWxoCTBUQAvD_BwE  
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope everyone's week has been bearable and that you're all staying safe! <3


	62. A Sudden Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the weekend continues, Harry arrives with some not-entirely-unexpected news.

Shortly after arriving back at the Room, the recent graduates were all sprawled on the sofas and chairs, still discussing the game and waiting for supper to appear. Hermione was wedged between Draco and Dean on one of the couches and was regretting her choice of spots as they conversed loudly and with many flailing hand gestures that came dangerously close to her person. She felt a bit like a pinball, being jostled back and forth between the two wizards, and after being lightly elbowed in the shoulder for the third time, she finally escaped. She was heading across the common area to join Hannah and Padma at one of the small, round tables, when the large oaken door swung open, admitting a familiar face.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed in surprise, “What are you doing here?”

The raven-haired hero strode over, calling a general greeting to all as he waved to the group, but as he got closer, she could see his smile was strained.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, having stepped away from the girls, closer to her best friend.

He shook his head and gave a small grimace, “I need to speak with Malfoy.”

A leaden brick landed in the pit of her stomach and she knew the reason for his unplanned visit without him having to say a word. Instead, she nodded and both of them looked over at the tall blonde who was headed their way, his face a portrait of concern.

“Everything okay, Potter?” he asked when he reached them.

“Is there, um, somewhere we could talk?” Harry glanced around and found, as he’d suspected, all eyes were on them.

Draco’s expression turned severe and he nodded curtly before spinning on his heel and stalking off towards his chamber. Harry and Hermione followed, and though the young Auror followed him right over the threshold, the petite witch hung back at the door, unsure if her presence was wanted for this conversation. She needn’t have wondered. As soon as Draco noticed her standing there, his countenance softened and he stretched out a hand to her. Closing the door quietly behind her, she walked over to him where he was leaned against the dresser and entwined her fingers with his, offering silent support for the news she assumed was coming.

Harry sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose before meeting the slate-grey eyes that followed his every move. His expression and tone were deeply apologetic when he spoke, “I’m sorry, mate. I hate to have to tell you this.” He took another heavy breath, “Lucius died early this morning.”

The information settled upon them with a heavy thickness. It was not unexpected; they all knew he’d only been given a matter of weeks at the time of Draco and Narcissa’s visit to Azkaban, but it still seemed to require a bit of processing. Harry let the silence stretch for several minutes, knowing his former-nemesis needed to wrangle his thoughts and emotions into something manageable before he’d be able to speak. Hermione simply squeezed his hand and pressed herself a little closer to his side.

Draco seemed to be barely breathing, his eyes having dropped to the worn carpet beneath his feet at Harry’s words, his shoulders set, and the hand not holding Hermione’s was gripping the edge of the dresser with white-knuckled ferocity. Drawing a deep breath, he met the emerald gaze watching him and asked, “My mother?”

Harry nodded, “I just came from the Manor. She was about as surprised as you are, I would guess, and took the news in stride. I know this is difficult for both of you, and I’m truly sorry for it.” He paused, clearly thinking back on his recent interaction with Narcissa, “She said she was sad he’d wasted his life and missed out on so much, but that she couldn’t exactly mourn his death at this point, because the man she knew and loved was gone long before this illness took him.” He gave a small smile, “Your mother is an incredibly strong person. I know it will take a while to fully come to terms with this, but I have no doubt she will be just fine.”

Draco nodded and managed an appreciative tilt of his lips, “She will be. We both will be.” He let go of his vice-like hold on the dresser and scrubbed his hand over his face, letting out a muffled groan and a huff of air as he gathered himself. “So, what happens now? Do I need to go home to her? Do we need to do anything with the prison? I don’t know what the protocol is for this.”

Harry was quick to answer, “Narcissa explicitly made me promise to tell you that you do _not_ need to come home right now. There’s nothing to be done, and she feels like the two of you dealt with it all when you were there last month. She does, however, want you there for the reading of the will, which she was going to contact the solicitor about tomorrow. She said she would try to arrange it for a weekend if he was willing to do that, so you wouldn’t have to take any time off from lessons.”

He paused then, giving the tall blonde time to sort through all of that, and when Draco nodded in understanding, he continued, “As far as Azkaban goes, there’s no papers to fill out or anything like that. Their standard procedure is to bury the inmates in the large yard on the eastern side of the property. Any personal effects he might have still had there will be sent to your mother in the next week or so. I did request that they not send word of it to the _Prophet_ yet, since I wasn’t sure what your mother would want printed, if anything. She said she’d think about it and let me know.”

Draco shrugged, since it honestly didn’t matter to him either way if his father’s death was made public in the newspaper. He had so very little contact with the world outside of Hogwarts, and though he knew the faculty and staff took subscriptions, as did a small percentage of the student body, it wasn’t as if any of them would press him for details or make hurtful comments, as he suspected many members of the Wizarding world would. Not that he could blame them. His father had caused an unthinkable amount of pain and loss, both by his own hand and by his association with Voldemort, and a sizeable portion of the magical population in Britain had every right to hold grudges against him. By the time Draco would be done with his probation and out in society again, the name of Lucius Malfoy would be nothing more than dust in the wind.

Harry shuffled his feet, drawing Draco out of his thoughts and back to the present moment.

“Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything you need?” Harry asked earnestly.

“No, but thank you, Potter,” Draco responded, his voice low and tired. “Just let me know if there's anything needed on my end.”

“Will do,” a firm nod of his head, a clap on the other wizard’s shoulder, a one-armed hug for his best friend, and the Chosen One exited the room, closing the door with a soft _click_ behind him.

Hermione had been completely silent throughout the entire exchange, wanting to give Harry a chance to share all the information, and Draco the opportunity to ingest it and ask whatever questions he needed to. His grip on her hand hadn’t lessened in the slightest, and in fact had tightened to an almost painful degree at certain points. Once Harry left the room, she still didn’t let go, and simply laid her head against his shoulder as she continued to stand by his side.

Draco remained in the same stance for several beats, waiting for his brain to come to some sort of conclusion, waiting for an emotion – any emotion – to rise up within him. But nothing happened. Finally, he let out a long, deep sigh and glanced down at Hermione, who peered up at him with concern swirling in her deep chocolate irises. He pulled his hand from hers and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his embrace. She went willingly, her arms looping instinctively around his waist, her head resting on his chest as he buried his face in her curls and held her close. They stayed like that for a bit, until Draco lifted his head to press a kiss to her temple.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“I think so,” he sighed, “I keep waiting for something to happen, for some sort of major response to be triggered, but all I really feel is empty. There’s nothing there. Perhaps a bit of relief that it’s finally over. That sounds awful, doesn’t it?” He slumped against the dresser a little, his posture far less rigid than it had been earlier.

“No, not awful at all,” she assured him. “Like Narcissa, you have had a long time to deal with your feelings towards Lucius. Almost two years, in fact. Even longer, in some aspects, so it’s not surprising that his actual death is not the dramatic, emotional blow it might have been if circumstances were vastly different.” She tightened her hold on him and pressed herself closer, just wanting to let him know she was there and she understood.

He hugged her back just as tightly and rested his chin on top of her head, “Thank you, for being here. For dealing with all this. For not running for the hills at the tremendous amount of dysfunction my family consists of.” He chuckled wryly and she giggled in response.

“Every family has their own level of dysfunction. There’s no such thing as a perfect one, because there are no perfect people. We all just do the best we can with what we’ve been given,” she murmured into his shirt.

Draco hummed and moved his hands from around her waist up to her shoulders, his thumbs caressing her jaw as she turned and met his gaze. Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears that he knew were for him and the whole horrid situation, and yet the love and affection she felt for him was clearly visible in their warm, amber depths.

“I love you, Hermione. More than I can put into words. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t ever want to find out.”

A small smile started tugging at the corner of her mouth, but he didn’t wait for it to fully form before capturing her lips in a sweet but insistent kiss. In moments like these, she was his anchor in the storm, and he was more thankful for her than he knew how to say. For someone who had once prided himself on being entirely self-reliant, needing no one’s help or support, he could not fathom _not_ needing her. He didn’t think that made him weak or incapable, which is exactly how he would have seen it three or four years ago, but was simply grateful that his eyes had been opened to the beauty of real relationships. He couldn’t imagine missing out on this; missing out on her.

He moved from her lips and kissed his way down her jaw, stopping to nuzzle his nose near her ear and earning himself a small shiver from the witch in his arms.

“We should probably get back out there,” he groused in a whisper, “Everyone is probably wondering what happened, frantically coming up with worst-case scenarios, since I doubt Potter told them.”

“You alright with sharing this?” she asked, pulling back and studying his face with intense scrutiny.

Draco shrugged, “Why not? If I was going to tell anyone, it’d be that lot out there,” he jerked his chin in the direction of the door.

“Alright then,” she kissed him on the cheek and disentangled herself from his arms, but slid her fingers between his again and gave his hand a squeeze, which he returned.

Stepping back out into the common area, eight pairs of eyes immediately settled on them, and both Theo and Neville shot out of their seats as if moving to help in some way. Draco raised a hand in a calming gesture as he strode over to where they were all gathered, Hermione right beside him. They sank back into the spots they’d taken up before, while the other two wizards resumed their seats as well, and it was clear everyone was holding a collective breath, waiting for an explanation.

Grey eyes met brown for a beat before Draco turned to the group at large and cleared his throat, “My father passed away this morning in Azkaban. Potter came to deliver the news.”

Quiet gasps and small sounds of distress were made around the circle.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Neville offered, genuine sympathy etched across his friendly face.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean added, and their sentiments were echoed by everyone else.

“You okay?” Theo had pinned his childhood friend with a piercing stare, far more serious than his typical, teasing manner.

Draco nodded, “I am. It wasn’t a surprise. I’ve been… working through a lot of things… especially since my visit with him a few weeks ago.” They all knew the former Slytherin had gone to visit his father. They also were all fully aware of the estranged relationship between the two that had existed since Sixth Year, based on things Draco had shared during their time as housemates.

“Loss is still difficult, even if it is somewhat expected,” Luna said softly, “And grief is a funny emotion, catching us off guard, even when we don’t think it’s necessary. It’s okay to feel it.”

He nodded again, his throat tight and his eyes stinging, not from the news of his father, but from the compassion and support being shown to him so openly. Once again, he marveled at the eclectic group gathered around him and how much a part of his life they’d all become since returning to the school after the war.

“Thank you,” he managed to croak out, “I truly appreciate all of you.”

“You know we’re here, whatever you need,” Daphne insisted and nine heads nodded in agreement.

He let out a wry snicker and glanced around at his friends, “Being entirely honest, what I’d really like right now is to eat dinner and get on with our Game Night.” Looking past Neville and Hannah, who were seated in front of the low bookshelf, he could see the long, wooden table laden with steaming dishes. Supper had been sent up at some point while he’d been in his room, and he found he was absolutely famished after being out on the pitch all afternoon.

Several others laughed quietly and they all began making their way over, though not before hugs, handshakes, and claps on the shoulder were given in support of the Malfoy heir. The meal started out more subdued than usual, but by the end, everyone was laughing and joking and carrying on as if it were any other Saturday night together, for which Draco was extremely thankful.

Dean had decided to take a break from Dungeons and Dragons (much to Theo’s consternation), and instead set up a game called “Settlers of Catan.” He explained the concept of the expedition-like game, and said since the expansion pack allowed for 5-6 players, perhaps they could pair up. Everyone was fine with that, and immediately grabbed a partner: Neville and Hannah, Draco and Hermione, Theo and Luna, Dean and Anthony, Padma and Daphne. It was a slow start, with all the rules and strategies needing to be laid out, but the quiet, thought-provoking process was a good fit for the night. Many whispered conversations between teammates took place, and on more than one occasion, smug grins and pointed glares were exchanged when plans succeeded or backfired.

As the game went on, talk turned to their Second Years, who would be joining them for a lunchtime visit the next day.

“I will be entirely honest and say I have nothing specific planned for them,” Dean admitted. “I wasn’t sure if you all wanted to play more games, or go into the village, or just hang out?” He looked around, clearly looking for suggestions.

"Well, so far this year we’ve done several games, taken them to the forest for a bonfire, had dinner in the Great Hall, and watched a movie,” Padma ticked off the events on her fingers. “We did take them to Hogsmeade last year, but we haven’t been back since.”

“And they won’t have gone at all yet this year, since they’re still only Seconds,” Anthony pointed out.

“Why don’t we do that, then?” Daphne suggested, “They’re coming here for lunch, but we can go right after and let them do a bit of shopping and whatnot, right?”

“That sounds good,” Draco agreed, “We should run it by McGonagall, though, since technically they will be leaving school grounds.” As he said this, he hoisted himself up from his spot on the floor in front of Hermione and turned to look at her, “I’ll leave the next couple of moves up to you.” He cocked his head towards the game board and leaned down to press a swift kiss to her curls before striding off towards the door.

She watched him go, knowing he needed a break from the group, a few minutes to himself to think about things, regardless of how well he seemed to be handling Lucius’ death. Her heart ached for him, and she longed to take away the pain and bitterness that still ran deep in connection with his father. She truly hoped that this final event in the man’s life would bring some much needed closure to his son, and that Draco could look towards his future completely unencumbered by the past and the mistakes that cast such dark shadows for so long.

She met Daphne’s eyes across the table and saw sorrowful understanding there.

“He’ll be okay,” the pretty blonde mouthed silently, and Hermione nodded in response, a sad smile quirking her lips, before turning her attention back to the game.

In the meantime, Draco was taking the long way to the Headmistress’ office. He hadn’t thought he needed a break from his friends, but when the opportunity arose to step out for a few minutes, it seemed the right thing for him to do. So, here he was, strolling the quiet halls on Saturday evening with a destination in mind, but in no particular hurry to get there.

He still didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about Lucius’ death. And not that there’s any one way to feel about anything, but he honestly felt _nothing_ at the moment, and that in itself was bothersome. He tried a little exercise with his brain: He thought about Hermione and a smile immediately curved his cheeks while warmth bloomed in his chest. He thought about the match earlier that afternoon and his pulse quickened when he recalled chasing after Olivia as she sped towards the goal, ready to score. He thought about Bill, and unquestionable respect and appreciation came to mind, as well as gratitude for the trust the older wizard had bestowed on him. Thoughts of the eldest Weasley son brought about the memory of Fred, and his heart clenched. Even almost two years later, the loss of the lanky jokester still brought a pang of regret and sorrow. And then he thought about his father.

Nothing. It was as if there was a big, dark void where his emotions should be. He thought back to his earlier years, and every memory he could conjure was the same – Lucius standing there with his chin raised in superiority, his eyes hard, his expression stony. It didn’t matter where they were; the Manor, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the World Cup, it was always the same. He recalled various phrases his father had been fond of saying, and even if the words got muddled, the tone remained aloof and icy every time. There was nothing soft, nothing affectionate, nothing relatable. The man might as well have been a statue.

The only time Draco could remember his father breaking character was when he’d been begging for Voldemort’s forgiveness. Hunched over, on his knees, trembling and terrified, he supposed anyone would have stumbled over their words or been unable to hold their head up. In those horrible moments, however, were the only glimpses of true humanity within the stoic, rigid, arrogant wizard.

Forcing himself to think on these things only made him angry, which wasn’t helpful. Neville had reminded him of that. What was the point of being angry with someone who was gone from this world? If he was truly honest, the biggest thing he was feeling right now was tired. Sheer exhaustion was seeping into his bones and he knew it was a combination of physical exertion on the pitch, adrenaline from the match, and emotional and mental draining from the news about Lucius. He really just wanted to crawl into bed and be done with the day, and he knew that time would come fairly soon, seeing as it was already quite late, but first, he needed to speak to McGonagall.

Reaching the spiral staircase, he rode the stone steps upwards until he reached the office door, which he knocked on politely and entered when beckoned from within. He found the elderly witch, as usual, seated behind the massive desk across the room, piles of parchment and stacks of scrolls littering the surface. She looked up from whatever she was working on and her eyebrows rose in mild surprise.

“Coach Malfoy, how can I help you?” she rose from her chair and gestured for him to take the seat across from her, which he did, and she settled back into her own.

“We, the Eighth Years that is,” (for that is how they referred to themselves as a group, seeing as they were the only ones with that distinction), “were wanting to walk down to Hogsmeade tomorrow with our Seconds, if that’s alright?”

“Oh, yes, I don’t see why not. I’m assuming it will be similar to the trip last year, and they will all be accompanied by their mentors?” she arched a stern brow in question.

“Yes, exactly,” he assured her.

“Then that is perfectly acceptable,” she flashed a quick, close-lipped smile before peering at him more closely. A beat or two passed as she seemed to be contemplating something, but eventually she spoke again. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, Coach Malfoy, but I heard about your father. Mr. Potter told me by way of explanation of his sudden appearance in my office earlier. I’m truly sorry.”

Draco sighed, knowing this topic had been likely to be brought up, “Thank you, Headmistress. I appreciate it. It wasn’t a surprise.”

“Surprise or not, it is still a heavy thing to manage,” she replied not unkindly.

“That’s true,” he admitted.

“And are you?” she asked.

“Am I what?”

“Managing?” her tone remained light, but he could sense the genuine concern behind it.

“I think so,” he answered honestly, “I’m not entirely sure how I feel at the moment, nor if I’ll feel differently as time goes by. The circumstances are completely unlike anything I’ve encountered before.”

McGonagall nodded in her succinct way, “This goes without saying, but should you need anything, please do not hesitate to seek me out. I would assume you will need to go home at some point to settle the estate?”

“Yes, I believe my mother will be contacting the solicitor tomorrow.”

“Very well. You will be approved for whatever time off you need, just let me know the dates and I will make sure your responsibilities are covered.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” he was unsurprised by the offer, but deeply touched all the same. He stood from his seat and offered a small bow before turning towards the door when she spoke again.

“I hope you know how glad we have all been to have you on staff this year,” he turned back to face her fully once more, unsure what to expect next. “You are a tremendous asset to our faculty, and will continue to be in whatever future endeavors you may take on. I have watched you over the past year and a half and have seen the changes you have made. For what it’s worth, you are _not_ your father’s son any longer, and I’m extremely proud of you for it, Draco.” Her tone had softened noticeably, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a sheen to her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.

He reached out his hand, offering it to her, and she clasped it with her own. Instead of shaking it and pulling away, however, he covered her hand with his other and squeezed lightly, a small but genuine smile on his face.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said sincerely, intentionally reverting back to her previous title to show he understood exactly what she was saying. She nodded and quirked a small smile at him before he released her hand and headed for the door.

Once back in the hall, he replayed her words in his mind. No, he was not Lucius Malfoy’s son anymore – and that fact had nothing to do with the man’s recent passing. He was no longer the arrogant bully, the spoiled brat, the bigoted tosser he’d been during his school days. He did not hold to the prejudiced, elitist mindset he’d been raised with, nor did he care about blood status or societal standing. Draco had been complimented many times in his young life, typically for his wealth or appearance or another surface-value attribute, but the one he’d just received from the Headmistress might be the most meaningful one he’d ever gotten.

For all the time he’d wasted in his youth trying, and failing, to emulate his father, hearing that he was nothing like the man now was a gift he hadn’t known he needed to receive. Wasn’t that what he’d been striving for since being released from prison? Hadn’t he been consistently trying to do everything the opposite of what he’d been raised to do, be the antithesis of who he was supposed to be? To have it recognized by McGonagall, who had seen him at the height of his obnoxious existence, meant a great deal to him. A great deal indeed.

Wandering back towards the Room, there was a slight bounce to his step, and he felt lighter than he had on his original trek through the corridors. He was sure there would be difficult days ahead, especially when he had to return to the Manor and deal with the will, but it somehow seemed less daunting now, and for that, he was thankful. He smiled to himself as he considered what waited for him back in his old dormitory – a group of some of the best people he’d ever met, and the sweetest, loveliest witch in the world. That caused him to pick up his pace and he thought maybe, if he was lucky, there might even be some dessert left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luna is right - grief is a tricky thing. There is no one way to react to loss, nor is there a "right" or "wrong" way, since everyone's experience is unique to their own relationship with the person who has passed. Sometimes, news of a death stops us in our tracks. Sometimes, it drastically alters the way we approach life from then on. Sometimes, we crave normalcy in the midst of grief and, like Draco, simply prefer the company of friends to take our mind off things. As someone who takes a while to process major news, (and who has also been told I "under-react" to things), I can completely relate to his desire to go ahead with dinner and their game night, and even his thoughts on dessert after leaving McGonagall's office. It's the little things that often bring us the most comfort and keep us grounded in difficult moments, I think.   
> Anywho, I hope this Monday greets everyone kindly, and that you all are staying safe and healthy. Thank you so much for reading and staying with me down this rabbit hole! <3


	63. Tea for Thirty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Game Night weekend continues, and a trip to the village is in order.

Sunday was a thoroughly enjoyable day, as far as all the occupants of the Room were concerned. A leisurely breakfast, followed by unhurried attempts at getting ready for the day, leading up to the arrival of their young friends for the afternoon kept everyone in high spirits. The Second Years were thrilled, as always, to see their mentors and catch them up on all the latest goings on in their lives. Throughout the course of their luncheon, Hermione learned that Malcolm had earned top marks on his most recent Transfiguration exam, and was currently talking to a very pretty Hufflepuff named Bianca, who had been one of Anthony’s charges the previous year. Allison was still quite happily involved with Andrew, who had finally put two-and-two together back before the holidays, and realized she fancied him. They were giddy and awkward around each other, as twelve-year-olds tend to be, but it was obvious they enjoyed one another’s company, and for that, Hermione was glad.

Darla had the most to share as the four of them sat around a small, round table, sampling a variety of sandwiches and soups that the Elves had provided for their midday meal.

“I’ve started helping Professor Sprout and Gardener Longbottom in the greenhouses. Our lessons are right before lunch, so I have time to stay after class for a bit, and I’ve been learning about pruning Flutterby Bushes this past week,” the sweet Ravenclaw explained. “Next week I think I’ll get to help repot the baby Mandrakes!” It was abundantly clear the young witch was excited about this new opportunity, and Hermione couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she listened. In this way, Darla reminded her a lot of herself at that age; eager to learn and gain experience. It would seem they also still had a fondness for the Flying Instructor in common, too, as the Second Year’s cheeks turned pink when Draco walked by and trailed his hand up his girlfriend’s arm, squeezed her shoulder, and tossed her a wink as he continued on to his own table.

“Have you worked with Shrivelfigs yet?” Hermione asked, attempting to draw Darla’s attention back to the conversation.

“Oh! Umm, yes!” the younger witch blushed again and looked down at the table, clearly embarrassed at being caught out.

“We just harvested the blossoms in class at the beginning of the month,” Allison added and Malcolm nodded in agreement.

“Us, too,” he said, “But Professor Sprout only had a small batch for us to work with, so I spent half the lesson wrestling a Venomous Tentacula into a new pot.” He snorted and rolled his eyes, “Those things are clingy!”

“At least they stay in one place,” Darla piped up, “Those Leaping Toadstools are impossible to catch if they escape.”

“Ohh, I remember those,” Hermione chortled, “Ron once knocked a whole bucket of them over, and they had just been picked, so they were still quite active.”

“Aiden dropped one once and it hopped onto the rim of a whole basket of Puffapods and pushed it off the table. You know what happens when they hit the ground, right?” Malcolm asked, his brow cocked ironically.

“Oh, no,” Hermione gasped.

“Oh, yes,” the sandy-haired lad nodded emphatically, “The entire aisle of the greenhouse burst into bloom, while the spores went flying. Half the class was so dizzy they could barely stand up straight, and Gardener Longbottom had to herd us all outside till Professor Sprout could deal with the mess. Christopher walked smack into the wall, he was so addled!”

All four of them laughed at the mental image of the chaos caused by the spontaneous plants, and discussion turned to other classes and any unusual or funny mishaps that had taken place in recent weeks. After some time, Dean hollered for everyone’s attention and announced that they would all be heading down to the village. The Second Years whooped and cheered, not having been told ahead of time, and extremely glad for the chance to visit Hogsmeade again. Many of them needed to run back to their dormitories to grab cloaks or jackets and some spending money (particularly for Honeydukes), so it was decided that they would all meet down in the Entrance Hall as quickly as possible. A mad dash was made for the door by the younger crew, while their older counterparts gathered up their own belongings and set off for the castle’s main doors at a slightly slower pace.

Draco came up alongside Hermione and took her hand in his. She smiled up at the handsome blonde and paused just long enough to pop up on her toes and press a kiss to his lips.

“How was your lunch with Christopher and Olivia?” she asked as they continued on behind their friends.

“Good. They both had some questions about the latest Defense essay, so we mostly talked about that,” he shrugged and flashed a smirk at her, “They fill me in on all the latest gossip on a regular basis, so it’s not like they need to cram it all in once a month. In fact,” he glanced around as if making sure no one else was nearby to overhear the next part, “Did you know that Rory and Yasmine were seen holding hands two weeks ago in the Charms corridor?”

Hermione gasped theatrically, her eyes sparkling with mirth, “I didn’t!”

“Mmhmm,” Draco nodded importantly, “ _And_ , did you know that Emmeline told Allison, who told Olivia, who told me, that Christopher passed a note to Aiden saying he thought Emmeline looked pretty with her hair in braids?”

The petite brunette giggled at the look of feigned shock on her boyfriend’s face as he shared this earth-shattering news. She shook her head and started to compliment his wealth of knowledge when he leaned in towards her and whispered conspiratorially.

“But here’s the biggest rumor going around. I happen to have it on good authority that the Flying Instructor is absolutely head-over-heels for the Brightest Witch of the Age.”

After his pronouncement, he flung his arm around her shoulder and adopted a look of smug satisfaction, his silver eyes flashing down to her to see her response. Hermione’s cheeks had turned a lovely shade of pink and her mouth had dropped open a little as she had clearly not been expecting to be the subject of that last secret. Pursing her lips, she made a show of looking for eavesdroppers as they continued to meander down the hall.

“Well, I’ve heard that _she_ happens to have a massive crush on this ridiculously attractive bloke – used to be known as the Slytherin Prince – and she turns into a pile of mush every time he’s around.”

Pale brows shot up into his fringe, “Does she now?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely. Can’t focus on her work or her friends; spends half her time daydreaming about the way he looks in his coaching kit, and the other half pining after his kisses.” She said all of this in a soft voice, but the teasing tone beneath the words and the tiny smirk quirking her lips showed just how much she was enjoying their little game.

Just before they reached the top of the last set of stairs down to the Entrance Hall, Draco halted his steps, and as a result hers, since his arm was still firmly wrapped around her. He waited until all their housemates had disappeared around the corner before stepping in front of her and twirling a wayward curl around his finger.

“Can’t have you languishing away over here,” he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips, his hand now resting alongside her neck.

She hummed in response and returned the kiss for a beat or two, before the distant sound of footsteps broke them out of their little bubble. Her smile made his breath catch as she laced her fingers through his and tugged him along, bounding down the stairs to join their friends and the handful of Seconds who had beat them there. In short order, the rest of the younger students appeared, and they all made their way through the massive oaken doors and out onto the school grounds.

ooOoo

The trip to Hogsmeade was peacefully uneventful and thoroughly enjoyable. Each mentor took their young charges through the small village, making sure to hit every shop and stall that caught the younger witches and wizards’ interest. Unlike the first time they’d visited, when they’d combined groups, they went about in individual teams of three or four, simply to give more time and flexibility for desired stops. It’s much easier to decide on the next destination with only three people discussing it, than it is with six or seven. They did, however, all agree to meet up at Madam Puddifoot’s for tea after a set amount of time, as none of the Second Years had ever been before.

Being a Sunday afternoon, there were shoppers and browsers here and there, but nothing like the crowds that build up on Saturdays, and especially not if it’s a weekend for the school to send the older students down. It was nice to stroll down the high street without knocking into anyone, or having to worry about losing a member of the group.

Hermione, Allison, Darla, and Malcolm spent most of their time in Tomes and Scrolls, since both of the girls were looking for the latest book in a series they’d been reading, and Malcolm was in need of a birthday gift for his younger cousin. The Gryffindor Princess had no objections to their choice of location, and spent a happy half hour browsing the magical creature section. Her visit to the Irish coast had gone splendidly, and the Kelpie herd was, according to Rolf, perfectly healthy and content whilst making its way home. Since the case had been concluded so successfully, Gethsemane had already passed along another international request to her newest employee.

In the days to come, Hermione would be traveling to the densely wooded lands of Germany known as the Black Forest. Apparently a Centaur herd there had run into some trouble with an infestation of Cornish Pixies, and had reached out to the British Ministry for help, since their own administration was not particularly familiar with the obnoxious, blue beasts. Previous attempts to eradicate them had merely thrown the lot into an absolute fury, and the Centaurs had been battling them nonstop for three weeks now. One might think that, being so much bigger and more powerful, the Centaurs could simply find a way to wrangle the Pixies up and get rid of them, but for all their many talents, the impressive creatures do not have the same kind of magic that wizards and witches do. While they are innately skilled in the arts of Healing and Divination, Centaurs do not use wands, nor can they simply cast spells to make things happen. As such, there was no vanishing, stunning, or gathering of the pesky intruders to be done.

Not having much experience with the tiny, azure things, Hermione felt it would be prudent to study up on them before attempting to deal with them herself. As she perused the shelves in the small bookshop, she found an old edition of _“Doxies, Fairies, and Pixies,”_ she thought would suit just fine, and brought it with her up to the register, where Malcolm was already purchasing his own treasure.

“Did you find something for your cousin?” she nodded at the book the clerk was wrapping in brown paper.

“Yes! He’s recently taken an interest in Wizard’s Chess, and he already has a set, but I thought a book about the game would be helpful. It’s an easy one and has lots of pictures, which I think he’ll like,” Malcolm was obviously pleased with himself, and Hermione grinned in response, not just in acknowledgement of his success, but also in regards to the incredible transformation that had come over the boy since she’d first met him. She highly doubted the young Gryffindor she’d met last September would have thought to purchase a gift for anyone at all, nor would finding the right one have brought him so much joy.

“Excellent!” she beamed at him as she set her own choice down on the counter.

“Is that for work?” the sandy-haired lad nodded at her book, and as the clerk rang it up and wrapped it for her, Hermione told him about her upcoming assignment.

“Those Pixies are either really brave or really stupid,” Malcolm sniggered, “I’d never mess with a Centaur; I’d be too afraid of getting trampled, or run through with arrows!”

“I don’t think bravery has anything to do with it,” the petite witch chuckled and then launched into the story of how Professor Lockhart had unleashed an entire swarm of the pesky little buggers on their Second Year class. By that time, they had been joined by Allison and Darla again, and the quartet made their way to their next point of interest: Honeyduke’s.

A few of the other groups were also gathered in the popular candy store, and it seemed a debate was taking place about whether or not Shock-O-Chocs or Exploding Bonbons would make a better trick to play on someone.

“They _explode_ , though! Spicy chocolate can’t beat that!” Christopher was insisting, gesturing wildly to the boxes of the treat in question.

“Have you ever even tried the Shock-O-Chocs?” Olivia countered, “They start off sweet, but by the end, your mouth is on _fire_. My sister’s eyes were watering and her voice was all raspy.” Clutching her throat and gasping in a strained whisper, the young witch demonstrated for better effect, and everyone laughed at her antics.

“Why don’t you buy a box of each and have your friends test them out and compare?” Andrew suggested sensibly.

“Or sneak them into pudding one night at dinner and see what happens?” Allison countered with a wicked grin.

“We’re not hearing any of this,” Neville announced loudly, covering his ears with his hands, “Staff members present have no knowledge of any future pranks whatsoever.” Draco, Hermione, and Padma, who was also in the shop with her young charges, all cracked up at their friend’s theatrics.

“None of these items are banned by Filch, are they?” Padma was curious.

“No, but I’m not about to admit to McGonagall that I knew ahead of time that someone was about to turn the supper table into a circus,” Neville huffed.

“Don’t worry, we won’t buy any of them,” Allison’s eyes were wide and earnest as she took the box from Olivia and placed it back on the shelf, and Neville sighed with obvious relief before turning to say something to Draco. As it was, he missed the mischievous smirk on her face as she grabbed that same box again and made a beeline for the counter while everyone’s attention was turned elsewhere.

The rest of their time in the village passed quickly, and eventually all thirty-two of them were gathered in the frilly pink establishment at the end of the road. The girls _ooohed_ and _ahhhed_ as they entered the tea shop, their eyes sparkling as they took in the pretty decorations, and more than a few wistful looks were cast around as they basked in the overall romanticism of the place. The boys, on the other hand, were equally bug-eyed, though not in rosy-cheeked awe, but more of a mildly horrified one. The few who had actual girlfriends among the young group looked unsure as to whether it would be a better idea to sprint back out the door, or grit their teeth and act like gentlemen. Thankfully, Andrew, Malcolm, Rory, and a few others, all decided to just go with it and shuffled over to their respective witches with shy smiles on their faces as they gestured to the tables they could potentially sit at.

Christopher was looking rather pale and pasty as everyone started splitting off and finding seats, so Draco approached him to see what was wrong.

“You alright there?” he asked quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the Second’s obvious discomfort.

“Yeah, I… I uhhh…” panicked hazel eyes flashed to slate grey. “D’you think Emmeline would want to sit with me?”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning or laughing or doing anything to make the poor boy think he was making fun of him. Instead, he schooled his features into a thoughtful expression and nodded seriously.

“I don’t see why not. And you’ll never know unless you ask, right?” he bumped his elbow into the younger wizard’s arm in a gesture of encouragement, and it was apparently all that was needed.

Christopher straightened up, took a deep breath, and strode across the shop to a pretty little witch, whose long honey-colored hair was in two intricate braids, tied with yellow ribbons. If Draco wasn’t much mistaken, her choice of accessory was a direct nod to his young friend’s house, and he watched with hidden amusement as the two engaged in a brief conversation before heading off to a table along the wall together. Chuckling to himself, he glanced around to see where his own girlfriend had gone off to, and spotted her chatting with the owner behind the counter.

The shop wasn’t large by any means, and was positively crammed with tiny tables and spindly chairs; so much so that there was barely any floor space visible. Along the window and the left-hand wall, the tables-for-two were filled with couples, including one with Neville and Hannah, and one with Theo and Luna. Most of the tables in the center had pairs of witches seated at them, both mentors and students, all happily engaged in animated conversation. On the right side of the store, Dean and Anthony had taken pity on the younger, unattached wizards who found sitting alone with another bloke to be rather awkward, and had dragged several tables together to make a bigger place for them to gather all together. That left literally one table empty, all by its lonesome in the far right corner, near the door to the kitchen, which Draco thought would suit perfectly.

“Hello, Madam Puddifoot,” he greeted the proprietress kindly as he stepped up to the counter. “It seems we’ve quite taken over your shop today,” he grinned as he glanced around the crowded tea room.

“Oh, I know, and I’m ever so pleased,” the older witched smiled and clapped her hands in front of her. “Sundays are usually a bit slow, and I just finished a batch of raspberry crumpets and was terribly afraid they’d go to waste.” She waved her hands at the young couple before her in a shooing motion, “Now you go sit down and I’ll have everything out in just a mo’.” With that, she turned and bustled off to take orders from her other customers, leaving Draco and Hermione to make their way to the tucked-away table.

“Well, this is quite nice,” Hermione smiled as she settled into the seat across from him.

“Have you not been here before?” Draco asked, surprised.

“Well, I came in once with Ginny, just to get tea and biscuits to bring back up to the castle, and one other time to…” but she trailed off, her cheeks turning as pink as the doily on the table in front of her.

“To what?” he couldn’t help prodding, sensing an amusing tale behind her reluctance.

“Oh,” she nibbled her bottom lip and fiddled with the teaspoon that was set on an embroidered napkin, “I came in once during Sixth Year to see if Ron had brought Lavender.” She huffed and crossed her arms, clearly embarrassed by her own actions. “It was ridiculous. I already knew they were together – it was impossible to miss their constant tongue-wrestling matches in the common room – but for some reason I needed to know if he’d actually come _here_ with her.”

“Why?” he was curious.

“Who knows?” she groused, rolling her eyes, “I think it had something to do with knowing how silly he’d found the whole idea of this place before. He used to make fun of the couples that came here. I wanted to see how far he’d go to impress her.”

“And did you find them?” a pale brow cocked in question.

She replied with an inelegant grunt and a shake of her head, “No. And I don’t know if that made me feel better or worse. I remember being rather smug at first, knowing he apparently hadn’t changed his obstinate behavior, but then I felt bad, because that meant he wasn’t willing to do something nice for his girlfriend.” Again, she rolled her eyes and grinned sheepishly, “It was all rather childish on my part, anyway.”

“Understandable,” Draco winked at her and reached across the small table, his hand palm-up, and she immediately placed her own in it. “I’m rather glad you never ventured here with a date, I must admit,” he dropped his gaze to his thumb, which was tracing small circles on the back of her hand.

“Why?” she cocked her head in question.

“Well, now this gets to be a first for both of us to share together,” he smirked, his pewter eyes dancing with mirth.

“Did you never come here with Pansy?” she was incredulous.

He scoffed, “Hardly. I told you – we were barely anything, and I wasn’t about to get caught in a place like this with her and have everyone thinking we were a serious couple.” He sniggered, “Though not for lack of trying on Pansy’s part. She tried to trick me into coming here at least twice that I’m aware of.” He met Hermione’s warm brown eyes that were fixed on him with a combination of curiosity and mirth and knew he’d have to tell the whole story now, else she’d pepper him with questions.

Sighing dramatically, he glanced around the almost claustrophobic space before diving in, “Fifth Year, the week before the first Hogsmeade trip, she kept bringing it up. She’d talk about it really loudly whenever I was nearby, and even tried to ask me if I was planning to go with anyone. I ignored her every time. For a Slytherin, Pansy was never very subtle when it came to that sort of thing.” He shook his head and snorted, “When that didn’t work, she settled for basically following me around the village all day. You can ask Daphne – she dragged her along, too. Tried to insist we all come in for something to eat, but I knew as soon as we stepped foot through the door, Daph was probably instructed to fake a reason to leave and drag Blaise and Theo after her.”

Hermione’s eyes were round with amused disbelief, “She didn’t really think you’d fall for it, did she?”

“Apparently so, because she was quite put out with us for the rest of the time, after we all agreed to go to the Three Broomsticks instead. But, if nothing else, Pansy’s persistent. The next Hogsmeade weekend, she actually came in here and got a table, and then sent Millicent off to find me and say that something was very wrong and I needed to go to Pansy immediately. She seemed genuine, and told me I could find her outside the tea shop, so I thought that would be safe enough. When I got close, I could see her sitting _inside_ , chatting with some Sixth Year witch, smiling and perfectly fine. I stood there long enough for her to turn and see me through the window, at which point she started fake crying about whatever fictional problem she was supposed to be having. I left.”

“Oh, goodness,” Hermione chortled, “That seems like a whole lot of effort for nothing.”

“Yes, well, Pansy is nothing if not dramatically creative and conniving,” he rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh. “She’s grown up quite a bit since then.”

“I think we all have,” the curly-haired witched teased, and though her tone was light, Draco could tell there was a deeper meaning to her words than a simple reference to the silly, attention-seeking antics youngsters often resort to.

“Most definitely,” he replied warmly, squeezing her hand that he still held on top of the table, while reaching over with his other to caress the side of her face. She leaned into his touch and her eyelids fluttered, and it was all he could do not to launch himself completely across the small space and snog the living daylights out of her. Moments like these – simply, seemingly inconsequential moments – made his heart swell to almost-bursting with love and adoration for the beautiful woman seated in front of him. She would never know how much her reactions to him, her trust in him, her acceptance of him, meant, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to express it in a way that conveyed the enormity of it all. But he would happily spend the rest of his life trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thoroughly enjoy the interactions between the Seconds and their mentors. It's a chance for them to catch up, and for us to still get a glimpse of things going on in the castle. I also really, really like tucking little stories in there about our main characters' past (like the ones Draco and Hermione shared in the tea shop). While the book highlights major events for Harry and his friends, there were days and weeks that went by where hundreds of others were going about their own lives, too. So, I like to play with the possibilities of all that :)  
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope your week has gone alright and that the weekend gives you something to smile about! <3


	64. The Calm Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting is set, and Bill shares some important news.

_Dearest Draco,_

_I’ve asked our solicitor to come to the Manor this Saturday afternoon to go over the contents of the will. I hope that won’t disrupt your responsibilities too much, but if you are unable to make it, let me know and I’ll try to reschedule. I would like to get this taken care of as soon as possible._

_I’d also like for you to look over the small paragraph I’ve drafted for the Prophet. I didn’t particularly want to leave it up to Rita Skeeter to craft your father’s obituary, regardless of the status of our relationship with him over the last few years. I’m sure you understand._

_The Grangers will be arriving the Wednesday before Easter and staying through the weekend. I believe they will depart first thing Monday morning. Andromeda and I were discussing things to do and she suggested an egg hunt for Teddy, which I wasn’t familiar with, but when she explained it, sounded wonderful._

_I’m very much looking forward to having you home for the week. We have all missed you, and Teddy keeps asking for you._

_Love,_

_Mother_

Draco reread the letter from his mother and gave a small sigh. He’d known the meeting was going to be scheduled soon, but it didn’t mean he was looking any more forward to it. Even with the news of his father’s passing just three days ago, the rest of the weekend with Hermione and his housemates had been wonderful. He’d carried his elation over the Quidditch match and the bolstering support of his friends into the start of another week, and had managed to set aside the sobering thoughts of what was still to come. Anytime his mind started drifting down that morose path, he replayed the stolen moments he and his favorite witch had been able to share throughout their time together...

After returning to the school from their jaunt to the village, the Second Years had said goodbye and dispersed to their varied activities, while the Eighth Years went back to the Room to gather their belongings and get ready to head to their respective homes. A few of them had to leave a bit earlier than usual, but Hermione wasn’t in any rush so she accompanied him back to his chambers for a bit. He knew part of her desire to stretch out their visit was based on concern for him and how he was handling the news about Lucius. They talked briefly about it, but the reality was, nothing had changed in his mind. He still didn’t feel greatly impacted in any way, and the only emotion that surfaced regularly was a niggling wariness over the contents of the will.

Lucius had never discussed anything of any import with his wife or son, seeing it as his sole responsibility to manage the estate and all the details surrounding it. Any time Draco would ask a question, even a completely innocent one in his younger days, he was waved away as if he needn’t worry his shiny little head about it. He was positive the document would be filled with prideful, arrogant, self-important wording about all the impressive assets connected to the House of Malfoy, and he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if his father had managed to stick an unwelcome stipulation or clause in there somewhere about who _acceptable_ business associates would be. It was simply how he always did things, and the outcome was always meant to put Lucius on top in the end. Hermione understood his sense of foreboding, but reminded him that there really wasn’t much his father could have done, seeing as he was turning the whole thing over to Narcissa for now, and eventually him, so it would be up to them to manage it all from then on. Most of his father’s previous partners and cohorts were now either dead, shunned by most of society, or in prison, anyway.

He appreciated her pragmatic approach, and was sure to demonstrate his gratitude during their last couple of hours together before Hermione needed to head home. Their conversation had started out with them sitting side-by-side on his small sofa, but eventually had moved to his bedroom when it was determined that there was absolutely no way the two of them could stretch out on the two-seater couch. Not only was Draco too tall by at least a foot, but the cushions weren’t deep enough to allow for any sort of cuddling, a fact proven quite forcefully when Hermione tumbled to the floor after trying to get comfortable. Laughing hysterically, they decided to change location and arranged themselves much more comfortably on his four-poster, where his attempts to express his esteem for her were periodically interrupted by another bout of giggles and snickers.

All too soon, their pursuits had to come to an end, and as he let himself get lost in her deep, chocolate gaze for just a minute more, he tried to put his often-overwhelming feelings about her into words.

“I hope you know how important you are to me,” he began in a quiet voice, holding her stare steadily and brushing her cheek with his knuckles as he lay on his side next to her. Her position mirrored his and she was tracing slow lines up and down the edge of his back, where her arm reached around his waist. A smile bloomed across her face as he continued, “I honestly don’t know what I would do… how I would manage… without you. Everything that happens, big or small, you’re the first person I want to tell. Anytime there’s a problem, you’re the only one I think can help me solve it. I know I tell you I love you fairly often, and I do, but it’s… it’s more than that. I don’t know how to explain it – how do you say that you _more than love_ someone? Salazar, it sounds mental.” He huffed a wry chuckle and shook his head, but his eyes never left hers, which were now welling with tears.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered as a lone tear made its way down her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb. “This was meant to be a happy confession.”

“I am happy,” she gave him a watery giggle, “And you’re not mental. I understand, truly. Sometimes I think about you and I feel like I love you so much I might burst. I want to spend every minute with you, and share every bit of what life brings our way; all the ups and downs, successes and failures, joys and heartaches. It’s you, _always you_ , that I want.”

As she’d spoken, she scooted closer so the last few words were a mere whisper against his lips, punctuated with the softest of kisses that left him burning for more. Knowing she really did need to get going if she was going to make the floo cut-off, he pulled her to his chest and hugged her tightly, even going so far as to wrap one leg around both of hers, earning himself a squished snigger from inside his arms.

“I wish I could keep you,” he muttered grumpily as they disentangled themselves and rolled off opposite sides of the bed.

“Well, you do _have me_ , even if not always in physical presence. You have my heart, and that’s what matters most,” her statement was matter-of-fact, but for some reason, it knocked the wind from him as he stared at her across the rumpled blankets. Her hair was a little crazier than usual, lips slightly swollen, eyes sparkling, and cheeks pink, and the smile she was giving him turned his insides into a pile of mush. Unable to stop himself, he strode around the foot of the bed, gently grabbed her face between his palms, and kissed her like his life depended on it.

When they broke apart to breathe, he peered intently into her gold-flecked eyes, his hands still framing her face, “I love you, Hermione Granger. I am honored that you would trust me with your heart. You have had mine in its entirety for quite some time now, and I don’t ever want it back.” He kissed her again, this time less desperately, but still with every ounce of adoration he could pour into it. Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled back and slid his hands down her arms while she seemed to struggle to regain her footing, her eyes fluttering slowly open.

Blinking up at him, a smile spread across her face and she held out a hand to him, “Walk me to the floo?”

Of course, he did, though not without stopping a handful of times along the way to steal another kiss, and she barely made it to the fireplace before the connection would have been shut off. With a quick kiss to his cheek and a wave to the Headmistress, she’d disappeared with a _whoosh_ of green flames, leaving him standing there, staring after her like a gormless loon. McGonagall had asked him if everything was alright, and he wasn’t even sure what his reply had been, other than what he was sure was some sort of sappy grin. He couldn’t bring himself to be fussed, though; everyone knew he was courting Hermione by now, so why bother trying to hide how utterly, madly, _gone_ over her he was?

So, now, here he was, in the midst of a regular Tuesday, complete with lessons and practices, meetings and patrols, and all he could think about was how beautiful his girlfriend was; how soft her lips were; how perfect she felt in his arms. Somewhere in the back of his usually-impressive brain a little voice was hollering something about needing to get a grip on himself, but he waved it away, content to bask in daydreams of their most recent moments together.

At the end of the final lesson of the day, Bill managed to grab his full attention by announcing he had some news he thought Draco might be interested in.

“Really? What?” the tall blonde felt his heart-rate speed up as his mind started conjuring a list of possible topics the DA professor could be referring to.

“Well,” Bill began, gesturing for Draco to take a seat at the desk next to him, “As promised, I reached out to Carson with questions about the way Gringott’s does their Curse Breaking training. It’s been awhile since I went through it, so I wasn’t sure if it was the same.” Draco nodded in eager understanding and Bill went on, “Unlike most areas of Mastery, which require two years of apprenticeship under a seasoned professional, Curse Breakers move through a training program at their own pace. Paired with a veteran Breaker, they study and learn under their guidance, achieving the next level as they complete the previous one. Most are able to complete the process in roughly eighteen months, though some have managed it more quickly. They do have a bit of a cut-off, and any witch or wizard who hasn’t made their way through the program in two and a half years is dismissed.”

Draco pondered this, fully understanding the need for a time limit. Curse Breakers did extremely dangerous work, and had layers of protocols and procedures that had to be followed for every job, often with lightning speed, and someone inept could put everyone else in danger. He wondered what type of schedule the trainees followed, and was just about to ask when his mentor spoke again.

“Carson said that typically, an applicant would keep regular office hours with their assigned Breaker, starting off at the base location and venturing out in the field as they grew more accomplished,” a small grimace flashed across his scarred face. “Unfortunately, right now, the team stationed at Gringott’s is rather short-handed. Galini and her crew are still in Egypt, and two other smaller groups are out in the field for long-term assignments as well. That leaves only a handful to deal with projects in the Vault, which means there’s not necessarily a Breaker who could focus the usual amount of time on a trainee.”

The younger wizard nodded with a sinking heart and dropped his gaze to the floor. He had known it was a long-shot anyway, and hadn’t allowed himself to think much about the possibility of working with the Gringott’s team because of it. Still, to hear that it wasn’t a viable option was disappointing.

“So, this is where I might have overstepped my boundaries,” Bill went on, and Draco whipped his head back up to see a sheepish grin spreading across the red-head’s face. “Carson said he could manage two and a half, or maybe even three days a week, depending on the projects going on. I didn’t really think you’d want to spend the other four days sitting at home, so I pitched an idea to McGonagall – one she readily agreed to.” He crossed his arms and his expression turned smug as Draco waited on tenterhooks for more details.

“If you’re interested in maintaining your position as the Flying Instructor here, the Headmistress said she could arrange the schedules so that all of your First Year lessons would take place on Thursdays and Fridays, and you would continue to run trainings and practices on the weekends, and referee the matches. You would retain your apartment here, and she said she would look into setting up a long-term floo connection to Carson’s office for you to use on the days you need to go to Gringott’s.” He paused, watching his young friend carefully for a reaction.

Draco seemed totally gobsmacked. His eyes were wide, his jaw slightly dropped, and the rest of his body appeared frozen on the spot. After a beat or two, he managed to close his mouth and blink a few times, but Bill could tell he was clearly mulling it all over. A minute passed in complete silence, a pale brow furrowed, and a deep breath was taken.

“So, let me make sure I understand everything,” Draco began slowly, “Carson wants me to train under him as a Curse Breaker on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. McGonagall wants me to continue as Flying Instructor on Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. I get to keep my chambers, and my part-time salary, while working towards a job with the Gringott’s team.” He ticked these things off methodically on his fingers as he went, and Bill nodded along with the succinct recounting.

“If that’s something you’d be interested in, yes.”

Again, silence reigned until Draco asked a one-word question.

“Why?”

“Why, what?” Bill was bemused.

“Why would Carson do this for me? I know he must be swamped if they’re so short-staffed. And why would McGonagall let me stay on? Madam Hooch didn’t live here full-time, she only came to the castle one day a week for lessons, and on the weekends matches were scheduled. The whole of classes would have to be reworked in order for me to take the First Years only on those two days, since each house takes them separately now,” he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the offer, especially considering the inconvenience it would be causing for both contributing parties.

“You can’t possibly be surprised that Carson would jump at the chance to bring you on board?” Bill was taken aback, “He’d have hired you on the spot a year ago after the way you handled that whole ordeal with the cursed trunk.”

Draco huffed quietly and shook his head, trying to play it off but Bill would have none of it.

“I’m serious, Draco. You obviously have incredible talent in this area, and Carson would clear his schedule to work with you tomorrow if you didn’t already have a commitment here through the end of the year.” He studied his young friend intently for a moment, “And I know I can speak for McGonagall when I say you have done a remarkable job with the students this year, both on the pitch and in the classroom. She was very reluctant to see you go at the end of term, and was ecstatic when I proposed this arrangement.” He snorted dryly and snarked, “Well, as ecstatic as Minerva McGonagall ever gets, but you know what I mean.”

At that, Draco let himself relax enough to laugh, though he shook his head in disbelief, “I just can’t… it’s a lot… they really…” His words trailed off and he seemed at a loss for how to express his thoughts about it all, but finally settled on a very simple, yet very sincere, “Thank you.” Bill nodded and smiled in acknowledgement.

“The rest of this year will continue as normal, and I’m sure there will be another meeting with Kingsley towards the end to discuss details, but that’s the basic gist of it all. So you’ll accept? You’ll stay on here and train with Carson?” bright blue eyes were sparkling with excitement and a grin was twitching at the corner of Bill’s mouth.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think I will. I think it’s all brilliant, actually,” Draco’s brain seemed to finally catching up with itself, and the reality of the offer was settling on him now. He still had a job for next year, and would be training for another position. He didn’t have to leave the castle yet, and he could pursue something he was vastly interested in under the tutelage of someone he greatly respected. Almost as much as the man seated across from him.

Draco stood then, and held out his hand to Bill, who mirrored his movements, but when the older wizard clasped his hand, Draco pulled him in for a firm, one-armed hug, clapping him on the back a couple of times for good measure. This wasn’t his typical style, and he knew Bill would recognize the gesture for what it was – a tremendous amount of gratitude for the effort that had been made on his behalf, and the faith in him and his future that had been displayed. It meant more to him than he could ever say.

“I didn’t muck it all up, then?” Bill joked as they broke apart, “Didn’t stick my nose where it didn’t belong?”

“Not at all,” Draco chuckled, “I would have never considered the option you’ve put together, never assumed something like that could work. I’m extremely grateful you did.”

“Fantastic. I’ll be sure to let Fleur know next time she accuses me of meddling,” they both laughed then and Draco decided to share some news of his own with his mentor.

“I, uh, wanted to tell you, my father died on Saturday, so I’ll be going home this weekend to meet with my mother and the solicitor to go over the will,” he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels as he said this.

Bill’s expression immediately sobered, “Draco, I’m sorry to hear that. You’d said it wouldn’t be much longer, but I’m sure it still wasn’t easy to hear.” He did not need to question why his assistant hadn’t brought it up before then.

The tall blonde shrugged, “S’alright. I haven’t really felt any sort of way about it, to be honest. It just… is.”

Bill nodded, “And that’s okay.” He laid a hand on Draco’s shoulder, “You let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Draco nodded and gave him a small smile, and then switched back to the previous conversation. “Should I go talk to McGonagall about this? Or owl Carson?”

“I just sent an owl to him this afternoon, once McGonagall and I ironed out the details. You should be hearing from him with an official offer very soon. But you can absolutely speak to the Minerva about this. I’d be surprised if she didn’t summon you this evening or tomorrow morning to discuss it anyway.”

Just as Bill was saying this, Darla came skipping into the room and stopped right in front of the two staff members, nodding politely to the DA Professor before turning her doe eyes on the Flying Instructor.

“Coach Malfoy, the Headmistress asked me to give this to you,” she said in a quick, breathy voice as she held out a small scroll.

“Thank you, Darla,” he smiled at her kindly and took the parchment from her hand.

“You’re welcome,” she beamed at him, her cheeks turning pink, and continued to stare at him for a second or two before turning around and skipping back out the door.

As soon as she was gone from view, Bill let out a hearty guffaw, “So she’s still holding a torch for you, eh?”

Draco rolled his eyes and snorted, “She’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know. It’s been over a year and a half. That’s impressive longevity for a crush.”

“Yes, well, she knows Hermione and I are together, and that’s not going to change, so she’ll have to set her sights elsewhere.” He paused in consideration as a shrewd look crossed his face, “Maybe we should switch seating assignments.”

“Why?” Bill was both amused and curious.

“I’ve noticed her classmate, Henry, staring at her lately. In fact,” he snapped his fingers as a thought just occurred to him, “I’m almost positive he was about to ask her to sit with him at the tea shop this past Sunday, but she got caught up with some of the other girls and he wound up with the big group of boys on the other side of the room.”

“So, you want to rearrange the entire Ravenclaw class just to give Darla a new wizard to pin her attentions on?” ginger brows rose comically.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Draco grumbled.

“No, no, by all means, switch it up!” Bill chortled, “But you should probably do it for all the Second Year lessons, so no one gets suspicious.

“That might not be a bad idea anyway, since the Hufflepuffs have gotten rather chatty lately, and there seems to be some drama brewing between a few of the Slytherins that sit in the back corner.”

“Well, there you go, then,” Bill smirked as he gathered up his bag and headed towards the door, Draco following in his wake, “If only all the world’s problems could be solved by changing who everyone sits next to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tah-daaaah! There you have it, a glimpse into Draco's future once this school year is up. I've had so many comments from my lovely readers about what he might do, or where he might go, and I hope you're pleased with the course that's been charted :) As the title of this chapter indicates, there is still more trouble brewing, but I wanted to give my favorite Slytherin something happy and hopeful before the other shoe drops, so to speak.  
> I hope everyone's Monday is bearable. With Thanksgiving coming up this Thursday, I will be putting the next chapter up on Wednesday instead <3


	65. Guten Tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sets off for the Black Forest with an unwelcome assistant.

Hermione arrived in the quaint German village of Freiburg, just outside the borders of the Black Forest, first thing Friday morning. She had been so excited about this trip, and had been looking forward to it all week, until Gethsemane dropped a rather unwelcome bit of news in her lap late Thursday afternoon…

Brilliant as she might be, the Golden Girl was not fluent in any language besides English (though she could understand enough conversational French to get by), and as such, a translator would be needed for her encounter with the Centaurs. There were two interpreters within the entirety of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and in any other typical circumstances, one of them would have accompanied her on this trip. However, Juniper Owenby, a middle-aged witch with hair blacker than Harry’s, had taken a leave of absence due to all four of her young children having contracted Dragon Pox, and Heimlich Urkstart, an older wizard who spoke seventy two different languages and had been with the department for sixty-five years, was away on a long-overdue vacation, during which he and his wife would be looking for a new place to live, upon his retirement at the end of the year.

As a result, a bit of scrambling had occurred, and Gethsemane was just about to owl the German Ministry and ask if they could arrange for one of their interpreters to help out, when an offer came from an unlikely source. Apparently, word of the predicament had traveled through the office, and there just so happened to be one member of the staff who spoke perfect German due to his mother’s entire family being from there, and the summers he often spent visiting them.

The older witch had paused after sharing this information with Hermione, a wary look of trepidation appearing on her face. The petite brunette didn’t even have to ask who the volunteer translator was. She knew, with a sinking feeling in her gut, she just _knew_.

Quintus Warrington.

Before her boss could confirm or deny her unspoken assumption, the man himself appeared in her doorway, a look of self-important smugness plastered across his visage as he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame.

“Have you heard, yet? We’re to be partners for your next little project,” he smirked at her, clearly daring her to contradict his statement, or express any sort of displeasure over it in front of their boss. Thankfully, Gethsemane put a cork in it before he could gloat any further.

“Just so we’re all on the same page,” she glanced at Hermione and nodded before pinning Warrington with a stern look, “This is Hermione’s assignment, and as such, she makes the calls. Your job is to translate – verbatim – whatever she needs to ask or tell the Centaurs. The entire exchange will be recorded using the same type of quill and notebook most reporters employ, so there will be a transcript of everything that is said.”

She let that sink in for a moment, and Hermione saw the look of irritation that flashed over Quintus before he schooled his expression into one of casual indifference.

“Of course. I’ll make sure the conversation is crystal clear on both sides.” With that, he nodded curtly to both witches, pushed off the wall, and strode back into his own office, the door swinging shut behind him with a loud _click._

Gethsemane turned back to Hermione, clearly apologetic, “I’m sorry. I really am. I have no idea how he heard about this situation, but when he approached me to offer his assistance, several other department heads were present and I had no way to refuse without raising suspicion.” She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Much as I might have wanted to, I can’t exactly turn down a willing employee simply because I don’t like him. And he really is perfectly qualified for this particular task.”

Hermione laughed at that, knowing full well that her superior was right, and that it would have been just as unprofessional for Gethsemane to have refused Warrington as it would have for Hermione to pitch a fit about being partnered with him.

“It’s only for one day,” she shrugged, “And our time alone will be minimal, since a representative will be meeting us the moment we arrive and taking us straight there. How bad could it be?”

_How bad could it be?_

Hermione recalled those optimistically-spoken words while grinding her teeth and clenching her hand into a tight fist so as to not grab her wand and hex the living daylights out of the obnoxious wizard beside her.

Since eight o’clock that morning, when they had been instructed to meet at the Portkey Office in their own Ministry, Warrington hadn’t shut up. He’d chatted up the clerk at the desk, clearly trying to impress the young witch with his benevolent offer to assist his frantic and overworked boss. To hear him tell it, he was single-handedly saving the whole Being Division from certain destruction, and the fact that the Brains of the Golden Trio needed his help was repeatedly pointed out. By the time their cracked and partially unraveled cassette tape glowed blue, Hermione was ready to cast a full body-bind curse on him and stuff him in the nearest closet.

Blessedly, the liaison from the German Ministry was exactly where she was supposed to be when they landed behind a small, stone cottage on the outskirts of the centuries-old hamlet. Liesl Schmidt, a witch not much older than Hermione, met them with a friendly smile and a warm greeting. She spoke halting and heavily-accented English, but was understood well enough by her visitors. She led them into Freiburg, pointing out various local spots of interest, and brought them to Munster Cathedral, an ancient and resplendent structure that is one of the oldest and largest in all of Europe.

During the entire walk over, Warrington kept trying to impress their guide with his use of her native language. Liesl, however, was not easily swayed and responded to each of his comments in broken English, so Hermione could follow along, too. At one point, the smarmy wizard had apparently asked her where one might take a pretty witch on a date and she replied, with a wink at Hermione, that the local men liked to surprise their women by choosing a romantic spot all on their own. At the irritated huff and disgruntled scowl that came from Quintus, both witches stifled giggles while exchanging a knowing look.

Upon reaching the stunning cathedral, Liesl told them their Ministry contacts would be meeting them in just a moment. The Gryffindor Princess was mildly disappointed that they wouldn’t have time to explore the Munster, but Liesl said they might have time after, if everything with the Centaurs went well. Warrington made an unintelligible comment under his breath and rolled his eyes, and Hermione was quite certain he was mocking her interest in the historical building, but she couldn’t care less. If anything, she felt a little sorry for the arrogant prat; he clearly felt he was above such mundane things as appreciating incredible architecture or learning about another culture. She wasn’t sure if his attitude was due to the fact that it was a Muggle structure, or if it was too plebeian of a pursuit for his obviously refined tastes.

True to Liesl’s word, in less than five minutes, two men in official-looking uniforms that seemed to be a combination of Wizards robes and Muggle military kits, met them at the steps. They introduced themselves as Rolf and Finn, and appeared to be in their mid-to-late twenties. Both were very friendly, pumping Warrington’s arm enthusiastically and clasping Hermione’s hand with much a lighter, but no less theatrical flair. They spoke rapidly, mixing English and German phrases, often running over one another in their eagerness to share all the information they had about the current predicament with the Centaurs, and the petite brunette was reminded a bit of the way Fred and George would finish each other’s sentences, which brought a smile to her face.

The group of five walked to the edge of the small, bustling city, where a well-worn path veered off from the main street and towards the forest some two hundred yards away. It was there that Liesl bid them good luck and said she would meet up with them again once they were finished. They thanked her and began their trek to the famous, and rather infamous, Black Forest.

With Liesl no longer around to impress, Quintus fell into a surly silence once it was abundantly clear that their two companions only had eyes and ears for the Golden Girl. Thankfully, like the witch who had just departed, both Rolf and Finn spoke a fair bit of English, though not enough to fully convey her questions or ideas to the Centaurs, and peppered Hermione with all manner of questions about Wizarding Britain, Hogwarts, the war, her Muggle parents, her current job, and, of course, Harry Potter. After a half-dozen inquiries about the Bespectacled One, Warrington let out an audible snort of derision, causing everyone’s attention to land on him. Both German wizards were goggling at him as if he’d just uttered something blasphemous, and Hermione fixed him with a glare of warning.

“I mean, yes, he killed Voldemort. Woohoo. Once you get past that, he’s honestly not so impressive,” he sneered, but then seemed to realize he’d very much said the wrong thing when Rolf halted, turned back, and stepped right up into his space with a stony expression.

“You zhink you could have done better?” he challenged the handsome Pureblood. “You zhink it vas so easy? You must not have... _erleiden..._ suffered... at Voldemort’s hand; must not have lost anyone, or had to live in fear, or… or…” Rolf’s face was turning a mottled purple and he was clearly agitated as he strove to find the right words in his non-native tongue to express himself. Finn stepped up beside his comrade and put a hand on his arm in a placating gesture while murmuring something in German. Whatever he said, it registered with the other man and he took a deep breath, backed up a few paces from Warrington, whose eyes had gone wide in alarm at the reaction his comment had garnered.

“I apologize,” Rolf said stiffly, nodding to Quintus and spinning around on his heel, faced the forest once more, and stalked off in their intended direction.

Finn glowered at the dark-haired wizard and shook his head reprovingly before turning his attention back to Hermione, who had stood silently by, watching the exchange with mounting panic. The last thing she needed was for the German Ministry to harbor ill feelings towards them, and she was furious with her coworker for being unable to keep his insufferable attitude under wraps. As she fell into step beside Finn, the young man explained as best he could, that both his family and Rolf’s, like many others in the region, had had their lives turned upside down back during Grindelwald’s rise to power. While neither of the soldiers themselves had been alive during that time, their parents had been young children at the time, and had been forced to go into hiding. Both sets of Rolf’s grandparents had been killed, along with several aunts, uncles, and cousins. Finn lost both grandfathers and one grandmother, and his mother’s older sister had died, as well. The stories and accounts of those terrifying days had been retold many times, so the next generation would never forget; would never allow those atrocities to happen again. When Voldemort was resurrected and the Second Wizarding War began, the magical population in many European countries held their breath and waited to see what would become of Britain, and if the horror would spread to their own homelands.

“Ve vere glad… very glad... to hear that Harry Potter had been... _siegreich._.. victory... triumphant, both for your own people, as well as for ourselves. Evil like that… it should never be allowed to succeed,” Finn shook his head emphatically, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a tight line.

“I agree,” Hermione said quietly but with conviction and the two exchanged small smiles. She could see Warrington out of the corner of her eye, about a half pace behind them, and though he was looking straight ahead, seemingly unconcerned about anything, she felt certain he’d heard the other wizard’s words and was currently mulling them over.

Several yards ahead, Rolf paused at the edge of the trees and turned to wait for his companions. His gaze landed on Hermione and he offered a small nod of his head before sweeping his arm to the side in a gesture of welcome, indicating that this was where they would enter the woods. The young witch glanced around and made a mental note of the cluster of bushes nearby, spotted with deep red berries, and the tree next to the barely-visible path that had an unusual bark pattern striping up and down its tall but rather spindly trunk. She hoped these things could be markers when they emerged, indicating they had truly returned to the same spot.

“Lead the way,” she grinned and nodded back at Rolf who flashed a friendly smirk and set a steady, yet slightly more careful pace as they trekked into the darkened interior of the forest. Hermione followed right behind him, and heard Quintus huff with irritation as Finn indicated he should follow her, so that the other soldier could bring up the rear. In single file, they walked in silence, keeping one eye on the leaf-strewn floor under their feet, and one on the seemingly empty reserve around them. She knew better than to think they were truly alone, and felt it better to assume that the Centaurs had been aware of their presence long before they’d officially crossed the threshold.

They continued in virtual silence for a solid twenty minutes, and other than the warble of birdsong, or the occasional snapping twig, nothing interrupted their progress. Up ahead, Hermione could see a gap in the trees that appeared to open up to a less-shadowed area, as sunlight could clearly be seen, even from several yards away. As they drew closer, she saw that it was, indeed, a small clearing where the trees made a bit of a circle around a raised section of lush grass, dotted with a handful of large rocks, big enough to sit on. Warrington made to do just that, but Finn made a warning sound in the back of his throat and shook his head, indicating that would be a bad idea. Hermione could tell her coworker was about to question the censure, but before he could make an even bigger pillock of himself, a loud rustling of leaves and distinct thudding of hooves was heard.

Though she had seen Centaurs up close and in person before, the curly-haired witch was never unimpressed by the majestic quality of the magical creatures. The three that were approaching them were no less stately or regal-looking than Bane or Firenze, and though their hands were free of weapons, and they each wore expressions of cautious welcome, there was no mistaking the strength and power that existed below the calm surface. The trio stepped into the picturesque glade and settled into a bit of a formation, with one of them standing slightly ahead of the other two. The leader, as it seemed, had shoulder-length, gleaming chestnut hair, which matched the coat covering his flank. His skin was a light golden color, and his eyes a startling shade of green, even brighter than Harry’s. The other two were very similar to one another, both sporting shorter locks of dark blonde, with coats honey and white. Their skin was paler than the other, and one had light blue eyes, while the other had grey. All three offered small bows and polite smiles, though only the one in the front offered his hand in greeting.

“Guten Tag,” he said in a low, smooth voice, his eyes pinned on Hermione. She took his hand and shook it and returned his smile with a nervous repetition of his welcome, one of the few phrases she’d learned before setting off on this journey.

The Centaur then turned his attention to Rolf and began speaking in rapid German. The two carried on a brief conversation before the soldier turned and waved at Quintus, gesturing for him to come closer. Thankfully, the dark-haired Pureblood did as requested without comment or fuss. Introductions were made, or at least that was what Hermione assumed was happening while she busied herself getting the quill and parchment out for recording, and at last, Warrington turned to her and explained.

“This is Iason. He was the one to contact us, asking for help. He said he will show us where the Pixies are, and answer any questions you might have,” his voice was clipped and professional, his expression carefully blank as he took in the charmed utensil that was already jotting notes across the page.

“Oh! Wonderful. Please tell him thank you, and that I’m ready whenever he is,” she directed her words at Warrington, but her smile and nod of gratitude towards their host. He listened to the translation and cocked his head in a direction about a quarter of the way around the circle. Once again, they all fell into a single file line, this time with Iason in the lead, and his two companions bringing up the end of their party.

They only walked for five or six minutes before the Centaur halted and waved them forward to stand next to him. The trees were still rather thick around them, and the underbrush much higher than other areas they’d wandered through, which made it easier for them to see, but not be seen. Something Hermione was immediately grateful for when she took in the sight before her.

What had probably been a once healthy and thriving section of the ancient forest now looked sickly and unstable. A dozen or so trees had been stripped of their leaves and bark, and were bent in odd ways towards one another, creating an arbor of sorts, or a dome. The ground was covered with layers of natural detritus, as well as a bizarre assortment of objects – some man-made, some fashioned by the inhabitants of this strange, little dwelling. And those inhabitants…

“There’s hundreds of them!” Hermione whispered in horrified shock. She had no idea there would be this many, and wracked her brain trying to remember anything the paperwork had stated; anything her boss had said; that might have alluded to the problem being of this magnitude. She could hear Iason saying something and turned to watch the exchange between him and Quintus, noting the widening of her cohort’s eyes before his more-typical scowl fell back into place.

“He says it wasn’t originally this bad, but that in the last week or so, they seem to have multiplied. They’ve also gotten a lot braver and have taken to stealing things from the Centaurs, and even from the people in the town.” Warrington’s tone was almost bored, but the tightening around his eyes gave away how concerned he was about the size of the problem they were now facing.

“They’ve gone into the town?” Hermione was extremely worried, now. Freiberg was not a Wizarding settlement, and no one there would have any idea what a Cornish Pixie was, nor how to deal with it. She could only imagine the havoc wreaked if a swarm of them descended upon the unsuspecting Muggles and shuddered at the thought. Not waiting for an answer to her question, she sucked in a fortifying breath, nodded firmly to herself, and turned to her companions.

“Right, well, there might be more of them than we’d accounted for, but the plan is still the same. We need to get rid of them. The best way to do it is to stun them, and then confine them. I’ve got a cage, but I’ll need to duplicate it a few times to make sure we can fit them all,” she started rummaging around in her beaded bag as she spoke, and tugged out a metal cage approximately the size of a cantaloupe. Setting it on the ground, she released the shrinking spell she’d previously cast, and it grew to its normal size once more.

“This can probably hold about twenty of them, so I need to see how many…” her words trailed off as she spun around to peer back through the bushes at her quarry. Her bright, amber eyes darted about quickly, trying to count the Pixies, which was no easy feat as they rarely stayed still. “I’m guessing there’s anywhere from two hundred to two-fifty, don’t you think?” she glanced at the others only to find them goggling at her. All except for Warrington, who was smirking with his arms folded across his chest.

“What?” she demanded.

“Well, they’ve never actually seen the Golden Girl in action before, have they?” he drawled. “Between the fact that you stuck your entire arm into your bag and yanked out something that shouldn’t have fit in it, and that you’ve been talking faster than an Elf with a Babbling Beverage, I’m not sure they know what to do with you.”

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes, “Undetectable Extension charm. Now, do you think my estimate is right, or not?”

Quintus snorted and turned to watch the Pixies for a few seconds before nodding, “I’d say so.”

She pointed her wand at the cage and made it grow till it was roughly twice its previous size, “This should hold closer to fifty.” She then flicked her wand and five more cages popped into existence around the first, “I’ll vanish whatever we don’t need, but I’d rather have more than not enough. Once we get started, we’ll have to move very quickly so they don’t catch on to what’s happening and escape.”

Hermione stepped back a little so as to address the three wizards and three Centaurs as a whole and explained her plan, “The four of us with wands will stun as many of them as we can in one go, using the _Immobulus_ charm, but we can’t assume we’ll get every single one. We need to block any that manage to dodge the spell, which is something Iason and his sentries can help with.” She nodded at Warrington, who proceeded to translate her idea, while she dug into her bag again. This time, she pulled out a pair of metal rods, similar in length to most wands, though thinner. They seemed to be stuck together, but as she pried them apart, a glittering silver net stretched between them. The further she separated them, the longer the rods became as well, so the net grew in length and width until it was easily the size of a large bedsheet.

“If two of the Centaurs could cover the mouth of the… the tree cave… I don’t know what to call it… when we stun them, we might be able to stop any the spells miss from flying off,” she shrugged. Warrington interpreted again, and when he was done both of the German wizards and all three Centaurs nodded with understanding. A few more minutes of planning and coordinating, and they were ready to go.

As silently as possible, they spread out behind the trees, across from the Pixie’s encampment. When Hermione gave the sign, the four wand-bearers would cast stunning spells at the swarm of blue beasts, while Iason and one of the blonde Centaurs whose name was Aegeus, would charge forward with the net. Olek, the other one, who turned out to be his twin brother (which would explain their physical similarities), was given a smaller net on a long pole, similar to a fishing net, that he could use to catch any Pixies that might manage to escape the stunner and the first net.

Once they were all in place, the petite witch tracked the erratic movements of her quarry for a beat or two and then readied her wand. She saw Rolf, Finn, and Quintus do the same, and knew the Centaurs had raised the nets behind them as well.

“Now!” she exclaimed, and everyone burst into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Sorry to leave this as a bit of a hanger, but it was getting too long for a single chapter ;) The rest of their trip to Germany will culminate in the next one, which I'll post on Monday. While not intentional, this little series of events somewhat mimics those of the Eighth Years' trip to Gringott's, though this time around, Hermione gets to be in the spotlight.   
> For all my American readers - Happy Thanksgiving! I know this year's festivities look a lot different than previous ones, but I hope each and every one of you are still able to enjoy the day and reflect on the blessings of this past year. I'm a firm believer that there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for <3 Case in point - I am immensely thankful for all of you and the time you give up to join me on this crazy little journey!


	66. Vielen Dank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's trip to the Black Forest ends on a rather surprising note.

As soon as the command was given, four voices bellowed _“Immobulus!”_ in unison, and jets of pale blue light shot out of the foliage towards the buzzing hive of troublesome creatures. At the exact same time, the Centaurs leapt forward and extended the magical net across the entire opening of their lair. For a minute, the bustle of hurried activity commenced, and several more incantations were heard as movement was still spotted among the Pixies, and Olek charged after two that had skirted around the poles, quickly capturing them in his own trap.

Hermione huffed in a satisfied way and turned to summon the cages while her counterparts simple stood and stared at the swarm of Pixies, now mostly suspended in midair, blinking their over-large eyes at the captors, as that was the only reflex the spell allowed them to maintain.

“I have never seen…” Rolf shook his head, completely gobsmacked by the sight in front of him.

“Such a simple spell…” Finn was no more verbose than his partner.

“How did you know that would do it?” Quintus arched a brow at his office neighbor.

She shrugged and allowed herself a small smirk, “I’ve encountered them once before and had to use it then, too. Figured I’d stick with something I knew would work.”

The three Centaurs glanced between the frozen pests and their female guest and burst out in hearty guffaws, each of them offering their hand to Hermione in thanks as they jabbered away in rapid German, clearly pleased with the results of their endeavor.

In short order, the immobilized Pixies were gathered up in five of the cages, the sixth one was vanished, and the nets shoved back in that notorious beaded bag. It had been decided ahead of time that the Pixies would be brought back to Britain, not because anyone there held any particular fondness for them, but because that was where they’d come from and it didn’t seem right to leave the German Ministry to deal with them any longer than they’d already had to.

Iason, Aegeus, and Olek escorted their guests back to the sunny clearing they had first met them in, repeated their gratitude, and extending multiple invitations for Hermione and Quintus to return to the Black Forest anytime they wanted. After one final farewell, the three impressive creatures strode back into the woods and out of view. The four humans then began the trek back to the edge of the trees, floating the cages between themselves, and feeling far less apprehensive about the lack of light and sound around them than they had on their way in. Conversation, though still hindered by language barriers, was much friendlier, too, and by the time they reached the border of the town and saw Liesl coming their way, they’d all had a good chuckle about Hermione’s first experience with Cornish Pixies and the abominably inept teacher who was to blame for the whole ordeal.

Shoving her hand into her pocket, Hermione pulled out what looked like a fistful of Muggle underground tokens, but were actually something like portkeys. She stuck one coin to each of the cages, and with a tap of her wand, they vanished one at a time.

“They’ll go straight to the holding cell,” she explained to Warrington, who knew exactly what she was talking about. Their department had a large space on the floor below their offices, where magical creatures of all varieties were brought in after being captured or found until a suitable location could be determined to send them to.

They shook hands with the German wizards, who thanked them profusely for their help and stated multiple times how glad they were to have met them, before turning their attention to the young witch who’d come to collect them.

“It all went alright, yah?” Liesl asked, noticing with obvious relief the smiles on their faces and the lack of any visible injuries or issues.

“Yes, they managed it brilliantly,” Hermione nodded and beamed at their host.

Warrington rolled his eyes and smirked as he said something in German and Liesl chortled and nodded. Hermione glowered at him suspiciously.

“He just said it vas all you, and you are too… _beschbeiden_ …” Liesl looked to the dark-haired wizard for help and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Modest. I said you were too modest,” he admitted to the ground, his cheeks turning pink as he spoke.

Hermione had to stop her jaw from gaping. Had the pompous prat just actually complimented her? Instead of letting her incredulity show, she simply hummed a noncommittal response and shrugged.

“I have a return portkey for you,” Liesl pulled an object from her pocket, wrapped in a square of blue fabric. “It vill go once you touch it for five seconds.” She looked at both of her guests with friendly sincerity, “I vould love to stay, but I have… _das treffen_ …” She looked to Warrington for assistance again.

“A meeting,” he explained and Liesl nodded in understanding.

“Yah, a meeting. But you can get food, or see the village if you have time,” she waved her hand around her, indicating the busy street they were slowly making their way back through. "But, _vielen dank_ … Thank you. Very much.” Liesl offered her hand with a smile.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Hermione clasped the other witch’s hand warmly, “Anytime.”

Liesl shook Warrington’s hand as well, and then waved to them both as she set off for her next appointment.

“We should probably find a less visible spot to activate this,” Hermione nodded to the cloth-covered object clutched in her fist.

“Oh, uhh, yes, I guess we should,” Quintus was looking distinctly uncomfortable and she was about to ask him what was wrong when he gestured vaguely to their surroundings. “Didn’t you want to go see the cathedral or something?” He refused to meet her shocked stare, instead, focusing on a random point somewhere off to his left.

“Well, I did, yes,” she replied slowly, unsure what to make of this utterly bizarre turn of events.

“We’ve got time, if you still felt like it,” he seemed to be second-guessing his offer and cleared his throat while still refusing to look at her.

She studied the wizard beside her for a beat or two, wondering what on Earth had sparked this sudden change of heart, and deciding she really didn’t care and that she’d take advantage of it and go explore the Munster. Who knew if she’d ever get another chance?

“I’d like to, if you’re sure you don’t mind,” she hedged, giving him a last chance to rescind.

Quintus finally met her gaze, his icy blue eyes flickering between her whiskey-colored ones as if trying to decide what he thought of her. Instead of responding verbally, he simply nodded once and swept his hand in front of them, indicating she should proceed. He fell in step beside her and they walked the short distance to the towering structure in amicable silence, observing the people milling about the village and the various businesses dotting the sidewalks.

The doors to the massive cathedral were wide open, and a steady trickle of visitors were seen coming and going as they approached. The wide, stone steps and ornately-scrolled doors reminded Hermione of the entrance to Hogwarts, as did the many towers and turrets, and the gargoyles that kept watch from high above the ground.

“Did you know it took three hundred years for construction to be completed?” she asked Warrington as they climbed the steps, unable to stop herself from sharing the small bit of information she’d gleaned during her preparations for their assignment. “It’s over eight hundred years old, and has sustained a bit of damage over the centuries, but was remarkably unharmed during the bombings of World War II.”

That caught Quintus’ attention, “Bombings?”

“Yes. Are you familiar with airplanes?” He nodded and she continued, “During most wars since the early 1900’s, once air travel had been invented and perfected, military units flew planes over targets and dropped bombs – large explosive devices – that would destroy whatever they landed on.” The Pureblood wizard nodded again, his brow furrowed, though his serious expression turned to one of amazement as they crossed the threshold into the sacred space.

“Ohhh,” Hermione breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the majesty and grandeur around her. The high, arched ceiling was easily as tall as that of the Great Hall, with decorative spires and intricate stone work gracing the smooth surface of the walls that supported it. For the next hour, the unlikely tourists strolled quietly through the historic building, stopping at length to view the larger-than-life statues in the Paradise, the many stained glass windows, the carved images of various Bishops and Saints, and the bronze work depicting Christ and the Apostles. Every so often, Hermione would whisper a bit of information regarding the relics they were viewing, but most of their time was spent in reverent silence.

They made their way back to their original starting point in the sanctuary, and without preamble, the petite witch slid into one of the last pews and sat down. After glancing around to make sure this was allowed, which it was, Quintus followed suit.

“It’s incredible,” Hermione whispered, her eyes raking over the artistry above and around them, “It’s overwhelming and yet… soothing, somehow.” She turned and met his gaze, “Does that make sense?”

His own eyes flickered to the massive columns and beautiful tapestries for a beat before he nodded, almost reluctantly, “Yes, it does.” A small frown appeared on his aristocratic face, “It just… it doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?” Hermione asked.

“How can Muggles create something so astounding, so beautiful, and yet also create something as destructive as a bomb?”

She thought about this for a moment, considering the best way to put her thoughts into words, “It’s not really any different than witches or wizards, honestly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, magical folk create wonderful things, but they can also be very destructive. Just look at all the damage and loss we suffered two years ago. Granted, magic can repair things a lot quicker, but the harm inflicted is not lessened by that.” When he didn’t pose any argument, she continued, “There are spells to blow things up just as effectively as any Muggle device; spells to bring a building to rubble, or raze a city to the ground. And the curses that kill people? Sometimes I think those are more dangerous than any weapons Muggles use, because they can be cast with barely a thought and some don’t leave any mark whatsoever. A flick of a wrist, and someone’s life is over, and you barely even have to aim.”

Hermione couldn’t continue as images from the Battle flooded her mind. She had not personally witnessed the deaths of Lupin or Tonks, or so many others, but she didn’t need to in order to see the flash of green light that sent them crumpling to the ground as clearly as if she’d been by their side.

“Granger?” a worried voice sounded in her ear and she realized with a start that she’d closed her eyes at some point, and that those eyes were now filled with tears that were clinging to her lashes. She blinked several times and took a deep, shuddering breath before she met the concerned face of her normally aloof and unaffected coworker.

“Sorry,” she shook her head and wiped her face, “I got lost there for a second.”

“It was truly awful, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and then cocked her head in question, “You weren’t part of it, any of it, were you?”

Warrington froze, as if unsure how to answer that, but apparently decided honesty was the best policy, though he fixed his stare on the back of the wooden pew in front of him as he spoke in a low, unpretentious tone.

“No, I wasn’t. None of my family were.” He sucked in a deep breath and continued, lacing his fingers together in his lap, “Obviously, the Warringtons are a Pureblood line, but my father was never a Death Eater, nor did he have any desire to become one. During the first war, he took my mother and me to our estate in Switzerland, where we stayed until it was over. In fact, we didn’t return to Britain for almost an entire year after Voldemort disappeared. I was too young to understand any of it, but later on my father explained he wanted to make sure he was truly dead and gone. As soon as he heard whispers of Voldemort’s return, he made arrangements for us to leave once again, and so we did.”

“Back to Switzerland?” Hermione asked.

Quintus nodded, “It was a little more difficult that time. I was already two years out of school and working, and Cassius was finishing up. My mother wanted to pull him out early, but my father decided that would draw too much attention, so he was allowed to finish his Seventh Year.” He paused again and met her inquisitive gaze, “As thankful as I am that my family was not met with the sort of tragedy and loss so many others endured, I’m not proud to say we did nothing to fight the evil that threatened to completely destroy our world. Cassius and I had many conversations during our second stint abroad, about what we would have done if we’d stayed; how we could have helped. We might be Purebloods, and we might hold to some ridiculous, societal standards, but we’ve never believed in killing people or enslaving them as Voldemort did. My parents weren’t even real supporters of the whole blood-supremacy ideology, but it was definitely safer for our family to toe that line.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed, “Most people don’t know all of that. Not that it matters anymore.”

“Of course it matters,” Hermione looked incredulous, “It might not matter in the sense that you have to pick a side anymore, but it matters in the way you move forward, in the relationships you build with others, in the mark you make on the world _now_.” She stared at him intently for a moment, “Is that why you’re always such a prat?”

Warrington choked on a surprised laugh at her blunt question, but the expression on her face was earnest and open and he knew she wasn’t trying to start a fight. He nodded his head ruefully and smirked at her, “Probably. It’s the way I was in school, the way I’ve pretty much always been. It’s just easier to be who people expect you to be.”

“Perhaps, but then I think you miss out on a great deal. I think you’d find people to be a lot more accepting of the friendlier, kinder, more humble version of Quintus Warrington that I’ve been acquainted with this afternoon, than the arrogant arse who swaggers around the office,” her brow arched in challenge and she flashed a small smirk of her own.

“Wow, you don’t hold back, do you?” he snorted, but couldn’t seem to put any real offense behind it.

“No. Gryffindor, remember?”

He let out a genuine laugh at that, and then remembered where they were and immediately clamped his lips together as several disapproving stares were sent their way. Hermione was in a silent fit of giggles beside him and with a flapping motion of her hands, indicated they should head out.

Once back outside in the crisp, late afternoon air, they gave into their amusement and chuckled heartily for a solid minute before deciding to grab a quick bite to eat at a small café. Hermione marveled at the change in the wizard across the table as they enjoyed a traditional German meal of bratwurst, cabbage, and _kasespatzle_ , which was a casserole of pasta, caramelized onions, and loads of melted cheese that both of them were immediately enamored with. Their conversation varied between several random topics, including her childhood as a Muggle, his most memorable school experiences, their preferred hobbies and interests, and even her relationship with Draco. It was clear the long-standing snobbery between many Pureblood houses remained, but Quintus didn’t make a single disparaging remark about her boyfriend, though he was absolutely dumbfounded to hear that Narcissa had hosted the Grangers over the holidays.

“My mother will never believe that,” he sniggered, “Like most high-society witches, she and Narcissa, as well as the Parkinson, Goyle, Greengrass, and Pucey matriarchs, had a bit of an unspoken rivalry with one another. Always trying to one-up each other, whether by hosting the biggest gala, or having the most beautiful gardens, or making the largest, charitable donation. As you can imagine, the Malfoys were almost always the ones to beat, but that was rarely accomplished.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Hermione chortled, “I think, in a lot of ways, Narcissa was like you – showing the world what they expected to see. It was easier, and later on, much safer for her to do so. Nowadays, she is a completely different woman from the one I thought I knew of.”

“And you think she’s happier this way?” Warrington wondered.

“Absolutely,” Hermione didn’t hesitate in the slightest, “Granted, I think anyone would be ecstatic to no longer be sharing a house with a psychotic tyrant, but the past year and a half has drastically altered her view on what is truly important in this life. She’s embraced those changes completely.”

“Hmmm,” his sharp blue eyes narrowed as he considered this, and though he didn’t say anything further on the subject, Hermione could tell he was ruminating over everything they’d talked about that day. She knew she was an optimistic person by nature, sometimes to her own detriment, but she truly hoped that at least some of what was said had taken hold and that Warrington would be willing to put himself – his real self – out there for others to get to know.

That possibility was put to the test almost the second they arrived back in the Portkey Office at the Ministry in London. The same clerk was still behind the desk – the one he had been so obnoxiously trying to impress that morning – but instead of regaling her with tales of their successful mission, he simply thanked her for checking them back in and wished her a good afternoon. Hermione met the wide-eyed stare of the other witch for a second before grinning and shrugging and following her cohort to the lifts.

Back in the office, they immediately sought out Gethsemane to hand over all the required paperwork, the transcribed conversation with the Centaurs, and to answer any questions she might have. Their boss was equal parts impressed and satisfied with the results and pinned them with a scrutinizing gaze once their debriefing was concluded.

“It would seem you two worked quite well together,” though her expression was shrewd, Hermione saw the question behind it as Gethsemane’s eyes flickered over to her.

“We really did,” she nodded emphatically, “Warrington’s knowledge of the language made things go much more smoothly than if I’d tried to muddle through it alone. And he was equally instrumental in the carrying out of the whole plan to stun and capture all the Pixies.”

“Well, it helped that the plan was brilliant,” he interjected with a nonchalant shrug that earned him a beaming smile from Hermione and a blatantly shocked look from his boss.

Clearing her throat and schooling her features into something more professional, Gethsemane nodded, “I’m glad to hear it. I know the Pixies arrived in the holding cell a short while ago, and the staff down there are trying to figure out exactly what to do with them. It’s not as if many people want the troublesome things around, and the three or four locations they most frequently dwell in are quite populated enough at the moment.”

“Perhaps Experimental Charms could use them? You know, as test subjects?” Warrington offered, “Or maybe they could be trained to do something, like deliver parcels or help the Cleaning Elves?”

Again, Gethsemane had to hide her surprise over the helpful and not-at-all-smarmy suggestion from her Census Taker. She nodded thoughtfully, “Possibly. We could reach out to several departments and see if anyone might have a need for over-active little beasts.”

The three of them laughed lightly, and Warrington said he’d get right on it before nodding to both of the witches and striding out the door.

Once she was sure he was out of earshot, Gethsemane pinned the petite brunette with a curious look that clearly indicated her bemusement over Quintus’ attitude adjustment. Hermione raised her hands in a _“don’t ask me”_ sort of way and shrugged.

“Well, whatever brought this about,” the older woman shook her head as a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, my wonderful readers! I hope your weekend and (for those who celebrated) Thanksgiving holiday was still enjoyable, even if it had to look a lot different than years' past. Y'all can breathe easier now - Quintus didn't cause an international conflict and maybe, just maybe, he'll be a bit nicer from here on out ;) The next chapter is a bit of a doozy, but I promise it's not the end. I'm also in the process of finishing up a new Country Magic fic (a Christmas one!) and plan to post it tomorrow.   
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting and sticking around to see where this story goes! <3


	67. Unprepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco heads home to meet with the solicitor, and finds his father's will contains an unpleasant surprise.

On Saturday afternoon, Draco and Harry stepped through the floo into the Manor’s elegant yet welcoming foyer. Merry was waiting for them and greeted them both with a curtsy and beaming smile before gesturing for them to follow her into the small receiving parlor that was typically reserved for business meetings or more formal conversations. Draco supposed this qualified as such.

Narcissa was already seated in one of four chairs gathered around a coffee table in the sunny space. The walls had been painted a pale yellow, and the floor-to-ceiling windows were framed by gauzy, white drapes that had been pushed back as far as possible, in order to let in the most amount of light. Though Draco entered the room as infrequently as possible, seeing as it once had been the scene of such horrifying acts, he couldn’t help but be immensely pleased with its transformation. He knew his mother had chosen each hue and shade, each new piece of furniture, with a fierce desire to banish the darkness from the room as it stood before. One look around the airy, cheerful space was all it took to see how perfectly she’d achieved that.

In another of the chairs sat a man Draco vaguely recognized, having seen the solicitor a handful of times over the years, though normally just in passing as he had never been included in any of the meetings his father had with the man. The only real sort of interaction he’d had with him had involved a series of letters they had exchanged the previous summer, when the pale blonde had asked for some details regarding various assets, investments, and properties that were still part of the Malfoy estate.

The older wizard stood and greeted the newcomers, extending his hand in welcome, as did Narcissa. Once pleasantries were exchanged, they all took their seats and the Pureblood witch began serving the tea that had been laid out before them.

“As you know,” the solicitor, a wizard by the name of Nicholas Hemmings, nodded towards the two Malfoys imperiously, “I’m here today to go over the contents of Mr. Malfoy’s will. I know you are both aware of the general terms and conditions, but as per my legal responsibilities, I will need to read it in its entirety.” They nodded in understanding and he turned his attention to Harry, a brow arched in question as he peered down his nose at the Chosen One. “May I ask, Mr. Potter, why exactly you are here?”

Harry had been contentedly chewing on a frosted biscuit and was startled by the question. Swallowing the partially-chewed cookie with difficulty, he cleared his throat and cast a glance at the mother and son duo before answering.

“I’m the court-appointed liaison for both Narcissa and Draco, and I am supposed to be present for any and all meetings they have with anyone who was an acquaintance of Lucius’ before the war,” his tone was matter-of-fact, but Hemmings bristled visibly.

“Are you insinuating that I am some sort of Death Eater or… or Voldemort sympathizer?” he puffed up indignantly, his face turning a shade of red the Weasley’s would have been proud of. “I will have you know that I maintained a perfectly respectable, entirely professional relationship with Mr. Malfoy, and that not once in the many years I served as his solicitor, did I ever engage in even the merest hint of conversation regarding his involvement with… with… You-Know-Who.” He was spluttering and entirely offended that such a connotation could even be made about his person, and took to fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his brow, so worked up over the whole thing, he was.

Harry stifled a laugh and schooled his face into something much more appropriate, refusing to look at Draco, who was clearly fighting his own amusement over the whole thing.

“No, no, of course not, Mr. Hemmings. It’s simply a precaution that was put in place by the Minister and the court for anyone acquitted under similar circumstances. It’s more for their safety than anything else,” he shrugged, hoping to appease the man.

“Well,” Hemmings sniffed disdainfully, “Clearly the Wizengamot did not consider how one, such as myself, who has a spotless record and no ties whatsoever to anything so… so unsavory as that… would feel about being viewed in that light.”

“I will be happy to pass on your displeasure to Kingsley, if that would help,” Harry offered, knowing full well that the solicitor was all pomp and nonsense, and his assumption was proven quite clearly when the beet-red color that had stained Hemmings’ cheeks vanished entirely, leaving his complexion a pasty grey.

“Oh, no,” he rushed to amend his former stance, “I wouldn’t want… no, it’s not necessary… you don’t need to…” Clearly, Harry’s close connection with the Minister was unexpected and unnerving, and having his negative opinions expressed to the most powerful man in Wizarding Britain was not something the self-important agent found agreeable.

Having gotten all the posturing out of the way, everyone settled back in for the actual purpose of the meeting. Over cups of tea and multiple sweets apiece, the documents were read aloud by Hemmings, with questions being interjected along the way. Very little had been changed in the will since its original writing, except for the removal of certain properties and valuables that had been seized as part of war reparations.

“As you know, Master Draco, the estate will not transfer into your name until after you are married,” Hemmings peered down at the parchment in his hand and read directly from it, “The Malfoy Estate, including all lands, structures, vaults and their contents within, investments, and shares in all aforementioned businesses will become the responsibility and entitlement of my sole heir, Draco Lucius Malfoy, upon such time as he has been wed to a Pureblood witch in a magical, binding ceremony, with the customary contracts completed and signed.” The solicitor had rattled it off in the same droll businesslike tone he’d used for all the other segments he’d read so far, but this time, he lowered the page and found two people staring at him with abject horror, and one, with mild confusion.

“Is there something,” he began, but Draco cut him off.

“Read that part again,” he bit out through clenched teeth, “The part about who I’m expected to marry.”

“Umm,” Hemmings scanned the document again, “Upon such time as he has been wed to a Pureblood witch in a…” Before he could go any farther, Draco shot out of his chair so forcefully the ornate piece was knocked over, and stormed out of the room. Several long seconds later, they heard a door slam in the distance and something glass crashed to the floor.

The solicitor looked deeply uncomfortable as he peered between Narcissa, who was paler than usual, her hands wringing her napkin in her lap, and Harry, whose brow was furrowed now with somber concern.

“I don’t understand,” his face taking on an expression of genuine worry. “I thought the terms were well-known to Master Draco?”

Narcissa sighed deeply, her eyes filled with unshed tears as she cast a helpless look at the raven-haired wizard across from her before turning back to the other man, “Do you happen to know Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Hemmings?”

“Of course,” he assured her, “Well, I mean, I’ve never met her personally, but I know all about her role in the war and…” But Narcissa cut him off.

“Yes, well, you see, she and my son are together,” she explained, only for Hemmings to blink owlishly at her, “They are courting. Dating. Involved. However you wish to describe it,” she waved her hand airily. “It is not public knowledge, but they have been together for over a year now.”

Hemmings turned to Harry as if to confirm this bit of information, which he did with a nod and a bit of a glare.

“I don’t quite understand,” the older man began again and this time Harry lost patience.

“Hermione is a Muggleborn, Mr. Hemmings. _A_ _Muggleborn_. Not a Pureblood witch, like Lucius plainly described in the will. Which means if Draco were to marry her, which he’s absolutely been thinking about, he would never come into his inheritance.”

Hemmings gaped like a fish, clearly unable to formulate a helpful thought at the moment.

“You will not repeat that information outside these walls, Mr. Hemmings,” Narcissa said, her tone as cold as ice.

Thankfully, the man seemed to regain control of his senses and sat up straighter, fixing his tie and collar, even though they were perfectly straight. He nodded succinctly in acknowledgement.

“I wouldn’t, even if I could, which I can’t. All solicitors are bound by a blood oath, similar to an Unbreakable Vow that makes it impossible for us to repeat anything discussed with our clients, or the contents of their private documents. The only exception being an actual trial in which the information would need to be divulged in order to make a case.”

A lightbulb clicked on in Harry’s brain, “Would it be possible to contest Lucius’ will? Could we have that particular detail removed? Could Narcissa override it, now that he’s gone?”

Hemmings took a deep breath and glanced nervously between the two people who appeared to be holding their breath, waiting for his answer, “I don’t think so. The will is a binding, legal, magical document. No one has the power to alter it in any way except for the original author, unless they specifically added another to the process, which, Mr. Malfoy did not.” He watched as their expressions fell slightly, “I truly am sorry. I had no idea."

Narcissa rallied herself, “It is not your fault, Mr. Hemmings. I am afraid, however, that we will need to end our discussion here, since my son is clearly in no frame of mind to continue.” She turned to Harry, “Could you go check on him, Harry? Make sure he’s… alright?”

Emerald eyes searched blue and saw worry and concern swirling in their depths, and knew it was taking every bit of the impressive control Narcissa had on her emotions at that moment to keep it together. He nodded and flashed her a small smile before tipping his head at Hemmings and striding from the room.

Having no real idea where Draco might have gone, Harry first checked the tall blonde’s study, then his small sitting room and private chambers. When those gave no hint of his whereabouts, he made his way back downstairs, through the solarium, and out onto the back patio. He stood on the flagstone surface for a few beats, wondering where his friend might have gone, when he heard a strange noise coming from off to the right. He followed the path that wound through the rose garden, and as he came around a bend that allowed a view of the vast rolling lawns behind the Manor, he spotted him.

Draco was roughly fifty yards away, fully immersed in a completely one-sided, but no less volatile battle with a massive oak tree. He was firing hex after hex at the ancient trunk, and strips of bark were blasting off in all directions. Every so often he’d aim one higher, causing armfuls of leaves to come fluttering down. The grass around him was littered with scorch marks, and even from such a distance, Harry could see the anger and desperation rolling off his former nemesis.

He started walking slowly towards other man, making no attempt to hide any noise his trainers might make, not wanting to startle his quarry and wind up getting hexed as a result. About twenty yards away, he stopped as Draco fired a spell – without uttering a sound – powerful enough to split a crack open in the trunk, sparks dancing along the edges as the entire tree shuddered under the attack.

“Wordless _Bombarda_?” he asked conversationally.

Draco jerked his head to the side, not turning around to fully face his audience, but enough to let him know he’d heard him before flinging his wand arm forward and sending a jet of silver light directly into the scarred wood. The wounded, raging bellow that accompanied the magic was heart-wrenching, and Harry felt completely at a loss for how to approach the entire horrid situation, much less the wizard drowning in it. He simply stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, waiting.

When Draco’s voice gave out and the spell flickered into nothing, his arm dropped limply to his side, his head bowed, shoulders slumped. He was the portrait of total defeat, and Harry had never felt sorrier for him. Not when he’d been in Azkaban, not when he’d been on trial, none of it. Perhaps because he knew there was a way out; that the problem could be solved; but this time, he didn’t have that same confidence. Not at all.

Eventually, the Malfoy heir turned around and faced his unlikely friend. His hair was messier than Harry’s, his shirt untucked, wrinkled, and sticking to him with sweat. His cheeks were blazing, his eyes red-rimmed, and his chest heaving from the great, gulping breaths he was trying to take.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Harry offered, knowing it was wholly insufficient.

Draco shook his head and rasped out, “I knew it was too good to be true; knew it couldn’t last. Even dead, the bastard’s still controlling my every move.”

“What couldn’t last?” Harry had caught those few words and had a sinking suspicion he knew the direction this was going.

“What do you think, Potter?” Draco was trying for venomous ire, but it really just came across as exhausted despair. “I’ve never deserved her anyway, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m not meant to keep her.”

“Stop right there,” Harry’s stance turned rigid, his tone clipped and cold. He didn’t want to kick a bloke when he was down, but there was no way he was going to let Draco throw in the towel like that. “First of all, you absolutely do deserve her, so come off it. Second, this isn’t over. So what if the will specifies a Pureblood witch? It’s a technicality!” He’d stalked closer to the pale wizard while forcefully ticking items off on his fingers, “Third, do you honestly think Hermione would let you go so easily? You do know my best friend, right? In the dictionary, there’s a picture of her next to the word _stubborn_!” He was working himself up now, but he didn’t care. He was not about to watch two of his closest friends throw their chance at a future together down the drain over something like this. “Fourth, do you really think she cares about your inheritance? Your vaults, or your properties? She’d live in a shack with no electricity out in the wilderness if it meant she could be with you.” He stopped suddenly, a nasty thought twisting its way into his mind and though he seriously doubted it would even be on Draco’s radar, he had to ask. “Unless it’s you who can’t manage,” his eyes narrowed and he cocked his head in question.

It took Draco a second to figure out what Harry was saying, but when he did, a sick chill swept over him, “You think I’d toss her aside just to keep the estate?” His anger started bubbling again, “You think I’d choose a vault full of galleons over Hermione? Over the best thing that’s ever happened to me? Over the woman I love?” He closed the remaining distance between the two of them, his face red, and his breaths coming out in jagged, uneven pants, “How could you even suggest such a thing?”

Harry didn’t back up or flinch away from the fury he could feel pulsing from the other wizard. Instead, he fixed his bright green eyes on steel grey ones and gave a small smirk, “Good. Let’s sort this out then, yeah?”

Draco looked thoroughly gobsmacked. He’d gone from silent horror to sheer despondency to incandescent rage in a matter of minutes, and suddenly felt like a very large balloon that had just been deflated, complete with the awful, whining whistle that typically accompanied the act. He sighed deeply and shook his head, staring at the ground for several beats before meeting Harry’s penetrating stare once more.

“I don’t know what to do, Potter. I have no idea how to fix this.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Harry assured him, though he also had no real suggestions to offer, nor did he want to tell his friend what the solicitor had said about not being able to change the wording. He figured Draco probably already knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Instead, he clapped him on the shoulder and repeated his encouragement, “We’ll figure it out. Hermione’s bound to have some thoughts on what,” but Draco cut him off.

“No, I don’t want her to know. Not right now,” his eyes were wild, his face drained of all color. He grabbed Harry’s arm and squeezed it tightly, “You can’t tell her, Potter. Not yet.”

The Bespectacled One didn’t particularly like that idea, “Well, _I_ don’t plan to be the one to tell her at all. _You_ need to be the one she hears this from. You know she’d want to help you sort it. You also know she’ll be furious when she finds out you’ve kept it from her.”

Draco started pacing back and forth right in front of him, “I know, I just… I need some time to wrap my head around this. It won’t do any good to drop this on her when I haven’t even thought about it properly myself. I want to meet with Hemmings again, and I want to read up on some things, and I just… I just need to work on it a little on my own first. You know if she thinks there's no alternative, her immediate reaction would be to insist I abide by my father's wishes. All that Gryffindor, noble, self-sacrificing rot.” He turned a pleading look on Harry, who still didn’t feel like this was the best course of action, but took pity on his former rival.

“Alright,” Harry nodded, “But don’t hold off on it too long, yeah? Let her help you. I don't think she'd just give you up that easily. It's not like she was fond of Lucius, at any rate.” He snorted at the thought and earned himself an agreeing grunt from the pale wizard beside him.

“I will. I promise. Soon.” It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best he could offer.

The two young men turned towards the Manor then, and began a slow walk back up to the house. Draco’s mind was solely focused on the books he might find helpful in his family’s library, while Harry was wondering how long he could hold his insatiably curious, far-too-astute best friend off from reaching her own conclusions about what the will said. Sighing inwardly, the humble hero shot a prayer to the Founders and the Fates and any other deity who might be able to pitch in, for help with this latest debacle, while simultaneously preparing himself for the bumpy ride he was sure awaited them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Draco. I truly do feel sorry for him (even though I'm the one putting him in this spot), since it seems like the guy just can't catch a break. You all know my style enough by now to know it will all turn out alright in the end, it just might take a bit to get there ;) Plus, I really dislike Lucius, so any chance I have to further his role as the bad guy...   
> I've posted a new fic to my Country Magic series entitled "Where Are You, Christmas?" and would love for you to check it out! Thanks so much for reading and commenting. Hope you all are staying safe and finding joy as we enter the holiday season! <3


	68. Between the Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione starts to wonder what's going on, while Draco continues to search for a solution.

_Hey!_

_How did it go?_

….

Hermione kept checking her two-way journal, but no response had come from Draco in the hours since she’d sent her brief message. Since she’d been out of the office all day Friday, she’d decided to go in on Saturday morning to get caught up on a few things that had been shoved by the wayside while she’d prepared for the assignment in Germany. Knowing Harry would be at the Manor most of the day, she wasn’t in any rush to get back to Grimmauld, and accomplished quite a bit more than she’d even intended.

When she finally did get back home, Kreacher informed her that her best friend had already come and gone, and when she asked where he was off to, all the Elf could offer her was a vague shrug. She ate dinner and chatted with the wizened being, telling him all about the Pixies, and in return, learning about the centuries-long dislike between Elves in general and the pesky beasts.

“They is often making more of a mess for us to clean up,” he groused in his gravelly voice, “Kreacher remembers a time when Master Sirius set some loose in the house during a dinner party. Ohhh, my Mistress was furious, and it took a long time to find all the cheese.”

“Find… the cheese?” Hermione was confused.

“Yes,” Kreacher nodded emphatically, “The Pixies stole all the cheese from the kitchen and hid small pieces everywhere. After a few days, the smell…” he shook his head with a look of disgust and Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Could you not summon it all?” she managed to ask.

“Not at the time, no,” he turned thoughtful and look of something like fondness crossed his wrinkled face. “Master Sirius and Master Regulus liked to play tricks on each other and their parents. They would steal things – summon them when the other wasn’t looking – and it caused many loud fights. My Mistress cast a spell to block any summoning charms and began locking the doors to all the rooms to keep them from sneaking in and taking things.”

“Oh, goodness,” Hermione did laugh then, and was rewarded with a low huff and a nod of agreement from her companion.

“My Mistress forgot about the spell, and when the Pixies came,” he splayed his hands in front of him as if to say _“well, you know what happened.”_

“Well, they’re most definitely not my favorite magical creatures,” she announced before thanking Kreacher for the delicious supper and taking herself up to bed. She jotted the quick note to Draco before she set about changing and getting ready to turn in. Settling down with a book she’d picked up several weeks before, but hadn’t had the opportunity to crack the cover of, she was determined to sink into the text, but it was not to be. She kept glancing out of the corner of her eye to see if his familiar, looping script had graced the page yet, but so far, her vigil was left wanting. She huffed a mildly frustrated sigh and wondered at his absence. Obviously the meeting with the solicitor had ended hours ago, as Harry had already been back to Grimmauld before setting off to wherever he happened to be. She assumed it was work-related, but the more her brain whirred with possibilities, the less-pleasant her summations became.

_What if Draco was in trouble?_

_What if it had gone horribly and Harry was now trying to sort things out on his friend’s behalf?_

_What if something had been so shocking or troubling that Narcissa and/or Draco were now at St. Mungo’s?_

Not wanting to come across as nosy or clingy or a myriad of other unpleasant adjectives girlfriends have a tendency to be, Hermione sent her otter Patronus off to find Harry with a very simply message.

“Everything okay?”

Returning to her book, she’d not even finished the page she was struggling to focus on when a silver stag appeared at the foot of her bed and spoke in her best friend’s voice.

“Yes, just catching up on case files. Be home soon.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Harry would have said if something was amiss, or at the very least would have hedged against answering directly, so she took his word that all was well. Scolding herself inwardly for letting anxiety get the better of her, she reasoned that Draco was probably spending time with his mother after what was surely another draining day regarding the late Malfoy patriarch.

Now able to relax a little more, Hermione let herself get fully absorbed by the book in her lap and in no time at all, almost a full hour had gone by and she could hear Harry’s tromping footsteps on the stairs. He knocked on her door, and she bid him enter, marking her page and setting the tome aside as she peered inquisitively at her flat-mate.

“Late night,” she commented.

“Yeah,” he huffed and carded his fingers through his hair, “I’ve been out of the office a bit more lately than usual, and as a result, my paperwork has been horribly neglected.” He chuckled dryly, “Robards said he'd assign me desk duty all next week if I didn’t get at least some of it turned in soon.”

“Did you finish enough to keep that punishment at bay?” she teased, knowing just how much Harry loathed being stuck in the office for days on end.

He nodded and grinned, “Oh, absolutely. There’s a hefty stack of files currently sitting in the middle of Robards’ desk, waiting for his sign off. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled Monday morning.”

Laughing with him for a beat, Hermione then asked the real question that had been on her mind all day, “How did it go at the Manor? Was the solicitor helpful? Was everything as they expected?”

If she didn’t know him so well, she would have missed the infinitesimal flash of discomfort that flickered across Harry’s features. She knew he was choosing his words carefully, though she had no idea why, and the reality sent a shiver down her spine as a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

“It was… fine,” he finally offered, now rubbing his hand across the back of his neck and staring down at the blanket on her bed. “There are some things they still need to discuss with the solicitor further; I think Narcissa will be scheduling another meeting in the next week or so, but for the most part, it went alright.” A beat or two went by before he met her gaze, and again a sense of foreboding coursed through her.

“Harry, are you sure?” she prodded, concern coloring her tone.

He sighed deeply and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before fixing his face with a determined, yet not unkind look.

“There are some things… some things that the Malfoys were not expecting. Things that Draco wants to sort out a bit before… before…” he grimaced as words seemed to fail him, but his ever-astute best friend filled in the blanks.

“Before he talks to me about it, right?” A combination of affection and ire flooded through her as she thought about her stubborn, self-reliant wizard. He had to know she would want to help him no matter what the problem, but if he wanted some time to work through it on his own, she would grant him that. She knew he’d eventually tell her anyway, and though it would niggle and gnaw at her in the meantime, she wouldn’t badger him or Harry for more information.

Green eyes filled with a plea for understanding met her amber ones across the length of the bed, “I’m sorry, Hermione. It’s not my place to explain it all. Technically, I’d be breaking my oath as an Auror if I did, but even if that wasn’t the case…”

“You’d be breaking Draco’s confidence,” she finished for him. “I understand, Harry, truly. And it’s fine. It takes him awhile to process things sometimes, and I know he’ll talk to me when he’s ready. I’m sure it’s not nearly as big a deal as he’s making it, anyway.” She huffed a bit of a laugh and rolled her eyes, “It’s not like he’s never prone to dramatics, is it?”

Harry allowed himself a chuckle and nodded, grateful for her acquiescence, but still feeling like it was going to be a bit of a nasty shock for her once it was all out in the open. He hoped with every fiber of his being that she was right – that it wasn’t as much of a disaster as Malfoy seemed to think, and that it would all work out just fine in the end. Keeping his word to his court-appointed charge, however, he smiled and shrugged as he backed towards the door.

“Malfoy? Dramatic? Never,” he smirked and was just about to turn and step into the hall when Hermione stopped him.

“Thank you,” she said in a much quieter voice, a small frown marring her features, “For helping him with whatever it is that’s got him worked up; for being such a good friend to him, beyond what you do as his liaison.” Her eyes were glittering as she focused on him, “It means a lot to me.”

The raven-haired wizard nodded and gave a small smile, “He’s grown on me a bit.” His tone was teasing, but changed to one of sincerity, “You’re welcome. And it’ll all be fine. I’m sure of it.”

Hermione returned his smile and nodded before picking up her book again, and Harry took his leave, closing her door gently behind him. As he made his way back down the stairs, hoping Kreacher had saved supper for him, he cast a fleeting prayer to the Founders that he hadn’t given her false hope, and that it really would all be okay.

ooOoo

_Hello love._

_I’m sorry I never responded last night – I spent most of it holed up in the Manor’s library._

_The meeting with Hemmings was fine. There’s some work I need to do, some questions I need to find answers to with regards to the will, but nothing too worrisome._

_I can’t wait to hear all about your trip. I’m sure you banished all the Pixies successfully, but I expect you to regale me with full details from start to finish._

_I’m headed back to the castle after breakfast, and will need to get caught up on a few things, but I’ll be around later this evening._

_I love you._

Hermione found this response in her journal upon waking on Sunday morning. While his message originally set her fears to rest that something important had been amiss, the longer she pondered his words, the more doubt seemed to creep into her resolve to believe it was all inconsequential.

Why would he need to do any sort of work regarding Lucius’ will? As far as she knew, those documents were legally binding, unable to be altered in any way once the author was deceased. Anything the stoic Pureblood had included in his final wishes was set in stone, so to speak, and even if Draco or Narcissa objected to it, there was nothing they could do to change it.

So, what questions did he need answered? He wouldn’t have questions if he accepted the will as it was, so what did he wish to argue? Why did he need to meet with the solicitor again, as Harry had mentioned, if it was all said and done?

These queries spun around in her brain like a never-ceasing carousel, and stayed with her as she ran her errands, caught up on letters to friends, and made preparations for Luna and Theo’s wedding, which was coming up in two weeks’ time. She had sent out invitations right after she’d returned from their most recent Game Night weekend, and had heard back from almost everyone so far. The guest list wasn’t long, with neither the bride nor the groom having large families, and being very particular about who they wanted to share their special day with.

Hermione let her thoughts wander to the pale blonde who’d hovered at the edges of her mind all day. She imagined their own wedding – where it might be held, who would be in attendance, even what her gown might look like. She’d never been one for big, extravagant events, and didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of attention, though she knew that was impossible to avoid when you were the bride. She thought she could tolerate it for one day, though, since that day would be the beginning of their life together.

She wondered what Draco’s thoughts on the whole engagement/marriage thing were. He’d seemed genuinely curious when he asked her what she would have said in the wake of Theo’s proposal, and she couldn’t believe he didn’t know that she’d accept without a second’s hesitation. She knew he still struggled with the weight of his past, and that he worried that his reputation would somehow cast a stain on her own, but she honestly couldn’t care less. While the majority of the Wizarding world did not know they were together, the people who mattered most did, and were wholly supportive. That was enough for her.

A dark little idea wormed its way into her fanciful musings, and she wondered if somehow Lucius had included something in his will that forbade Draco from marrying her. But how could he have? He didn’t know anything about their relationship until Narcissa and Draco visited him, and he would not have been able to change his will in the weeks that followed, since prisoners were not allowed to send owls or communicate with anyone outside.

 _Surely not,_ she chided herself for being so worried about it, and also for thinking it had anything to do with her. There were far more important things, she was sure, when it came to the settling of such a massive estate as the Malfoys had; Draco’s concerns probably had something to do with unfinished business dealings, or the upkeep of other properties. There were hundreds of responsibilities associated with the amount of land, wealth, and holdings the family had, and it most likely was something along those lines that had him sidetracked.

Determined to focus on other things that actually _did_ concern her, Hermione threw herself into finding the perfect wedding gift for Theo and Luna, as well as making plans for her parents’ upcoming visit, both tasks successfully taking her mind off whatever might be going on in Wiltshire.

ooOoo

While Hermione was purposefully distracting herself, Draco was trying his damnedest not to succumb to a (second) full-on meltdown over the entire situation. He’d spent the entirety of Saturday night in the library, tracking down every single book his family’s extensive collection contained that even hinted about wills or binding contracts or inheritance. Narcissa visited him twice, offering her heartfelt sympathy for the seemingly unsolvable problem he currently found himself mired in, and encouraging him to let his brilliant witch know what was going on.

“She’s not known as the Brightest Witch of the Age for nothing,” she teased lightly during her second trip to the book-filled room, trying to bring some levity to the situation, but it fell flat.

“I know that, Mother,” Draco huffed and scrubbed a hand over his face, “Truly, I do, but I’d like to have a better handle on this before I drag her into it. I want to be able to say that I’ve exhausted every outlet; scoured every text; made every effort, before I settle for the unappealing truth that has been presented to me.”

“I’ve set another meeting with Hemmings for next Saturday. Do you think you’ll be ready to meet with him then?” Narcissa asked.

“I’ll have to be, won’t I?” he sighed, “Theo and Luna’s wedding is the following week and I don’t want to stretch this out that long.” He waved a hand over towards the massive desk near the windows, currently covered in parchment, quills, and inkpots. “I’ve written to a dozen or so law firms, some here in Britain, two in France, one in Italy, one in Spain, and two in America. I’m trying to see if their interpretation of the way a will is written, or the power of the next of kin is any different than ours.” He gestured to a stack of books on the table normally used for tea in front of the fireplace, “I’ve also pulled every legal text we have, and plan to read through them as quickly as possible. Is it alright if I bring whatever I don’t finish here back to Hogwarts?”

“Of course, dear, take whatever you need,” Narcissa insisted, “It’s all yours, anyway.”

“Well, no, it’s not. Not yet, and maybe not ever, depending on what I can find to dispute his insanely specific wording,” Draco couldn’t hide the bite of irritation in his words.

The elegant witch’s heart ached for her son as she watched him fight against the emotions clearly roiling within him. She knew this had been a staggering blow, as she hadn’t seen it coming either, and she wanted more than anything to ease his pain in any way possible.

“You know he didn’t put that in there specifically to thwart your relationship with Hermione,” she began carefully, “He drafted the will when you were about six years old – the first time you displayed your magical ability – as is customary in most Pureblood households. I know he simply assumed you would marry one of the witches who’d descended from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, so that particular clause was nothing more than a formality to him.” She wasn’t trying to make excuses for Lucius, but simply hoping to help Draco see that this was not a direct attempt at sabotaging his happiness.

“Yes, well, regardless of his assumptions or reasons,” a touch of his old sneer tinged his words, “The fact remains that once again, he was laying out a path for me that he never thought would be questioned, whether it was what I wanted or not. It’s always been about what suited his needs or boosted his status.” Draco huffed an exasperated sigh, not wanting to argue the point, nor wanting his mother to think he held any of the whole disaster against her. Like himself, she had been kept in the dark whenever it came to anything of import surrounding the House of Malfoy.

Narcissa stepped closer and placed her hand on his arm, giving it a tender squeeze and waiting until he reluctantly met her bright blue gaze, “I am sorry, my son. I know this isn’t fair, and that it seems insurmountable, but it will work out. In whatever way we can manage, through whatever means necessary, it will be set to rights.”

Slate-grey eyes pierced her with painfully evident hopelessness and despair, and she could see his strong façade cracking as he laid his heart wide open to her.

“I love her, Mother. More than anything in this entire world, I love Hermione. I cannot – _will not_ – imagine a future without her. I would rather give up my claim to the estate and have to work for every knut that enters my vaults for the rest of my life than let her go. I just need to be one hundred percent sure that is my only option before I share this news with her.”

Overwhelmed by the effect of his words, Narcissa wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, her breathing ragged and her vision blurred with unshed tears. He returned the hug, and the two clung to each other in an uncharacteristic display of emotional affection, both vowing in their own minds to ensure the future he so desperately desired.

When they pulled apart, she took his pale face between her palms and met his red-rimmed eyes with determination, “Then let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally post on Mondays, but I've got several things going on, so this is a few hours early :) I hope it finds all my wonderful readers well and safe and staying sane! The gears are turning in Hermione's head, and it won't be long before she draws her own conclusions, but we'll get there in time. Thank you so much for reading and commenting! <3


	69. Guilt by Omission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is still searching for answers, and Hermione starts asking questions.

During the week that followed the reading of Lucius’ will, Draco spent every second of his free time trying to find a way to change his father’s final testament. For the first time, he truly understood how Hermione must have felt when she’d written to all those healers and so-called experts regarding her parents’ memories. Every day he kept one eye out for a response to his letters; when none came, he was thoroughly annoyed, but when one did, he was momentarily paralyzed with anxiety over what the missive might contain. Over and over again, the solicitors and lawyers he’d contacted repeated similar phrases – they were very sorry for his predicament, but knew of no legal way for him to alter the wording of the binding document. He held out hope until the last reply arrived on Thursday, just before his regular meeting with Harry.

The Boy Who Lived Twice found his former nemesis in an utterly dejected slump upon arriving in the Flying Instructor’s quarters. The coffee table was littered with parchment and scrolls, and random piles of books were stacked all over the normally tidy sitting area, but it was the sight of the pale wizard, elbows on his knees, hands covering his face that drew Harry’s concern.

“Alright there, Malfoy?” he asked as he entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. He walked across the short distance and plunked himself down in his usual chair before his host even acknowledged his presence. When he finally did, it was with a heavy sigh and the drag of his fingers down his wan and exhausted face.

“Nothing. There’s nothing to be done,” he waved his hand dismissively over the mess on the low table. “The only way to change the wording of the will is if I literally vanish the statement and write a new one in its place, which is entirely illegal. If I had come across it on my own, before anyone else was aware of it, I would have no qualms whatsoever about doing that. But now…” he shook his head.

“Now Hemmings knows, and probably a few other legal advisors,” Harry completed the thought.

“Not to mention you, my mother, and the dozen or so barristers I’ve contacted since the weekend. While I doubt any of them would ever find out if I did attempt to change it myself, I can’t run the risk of doing something that would most assuredly result in another stint in Azkaban.” Draco hung his head, glowering at the floor below, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

“Have you told Hermione?” Harry asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer, since his best friend hadn’t mentioned even a whisper of the whole debacle. Granted, he’d made a point to be home as little as possible since Saturday, in an attempt to ward off any random interrogations she might launch, but he was sure she would have told him if she knew.

“No,” Draco groaned, “And I know I’m going to have to, because I’m meeting with Hemmings again Saturday, and she’ll want to know how that went, and I can’t keep putting her off.” His temper flared and he flicked his wand at all the unhelpful replies, immediately causing them to burst into flame and disappear with a wisp of smoke.

“Have you considered another angle?” Harry offered.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly the walking library your girlfriend is, but maybe there’s another way to go about all of it?”

“Short of changing the vocabulary of the document, I don’t see what could be done. It’s not like he was under duress when he wrote it, nor is he requesting anything illegal or untoward be done with the estate. It’s not even unusual, the way he put it, since most Pureblood families consider the same eventuality for their heirs to be a given. If it was an odd or potentially dangerous expectation, perhaps I could argue it, but it’s not.”

Both young men sat there in contemplative silence for several minutes. Draco felt as if the prospect before him was no better than the one he’d been given before his Sixth Year began. Once again, because of his father, he was being forced to choose between his future and his family. Granted, death would not be the price paid, but the way he saw it, he could either marry the love of his life and be happy, or he could take up the mantle of the Malfoy heir and keep the ancient house and name alive for the next generation. To anyone outside his societal circle, it would seem an easy choice, but for someone who had been raised to believe that his legacy was the single most important claim he’d ever have, it was a no-win situation. If he forfeit his inheritance, he would forever carry the guilt of abandoning his rightful role. If he gave up Hermione… he couldn’t even let himself think about it without feeling like he was about to be sick.

Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t so quick to give it all up as a bad job. He would never claim to have Hermione’s problem-solving abilities, but something about this didn’t sit right. There had to be something, had to be another way around it. Surely there were other witches and wizards over the years who’d had a nasty wrench thrown in their plans when a will was read, and there was no way every single one of them had just sat down and taken it. As much as he knew Draco would hold it against him, he decided then and there that the next time Hermione asked him a direct question about what was going on, he’d tell her.

For the rest of their allotted time together, Harry tried to lighten the mood and focused on Draco’s upcoming training with Gringott’s, Theo and Luna’s wedding, and the standing for the House Cup with another match set for the end of the month. He knew his attempts at levity were obvious, but it seemed the tall blonde appreciated the effort and allowed himself to be sidetracked by more enjoyable topics for the rest of the hour.

ooOoo

Harry’s opportunity to meddle came sooner than he’d anticipated. That very same evening, he joined Hermione at the supper table and the two launched into their usual conversation about work and friends and significant others. He’d just finished telling her about Ginny’s latest win against the Wimbourne Wasps and how much he was looking forward to seeing his fiancée over the Easter holiday, when he noticed her countenance shift to one of melancholy.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, unused to seeing his normally buoyant flat-mate so down.

“I just…” Hermione began and he watched with dawning alarm as her lower lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. “Something’s wrong. Something’s going on with Draco and I don’t know what it is. At first, I thought it just had to do with Lucius’ will, but now I’m not so sure. All week, his messages to me in our journals have been short and impersonal. I know he’s busy with lessons and practices and all sorts of responsibilities, but that’s never kept him from talking to me at night. The last three mornings I’ve woken to a two-line note saying he’s sorry he missed me and that he’ll try to be around later. I feel like he’s avoiding me, but I don’t know why. I don’t know if I’ve done something to make him angry, or if he’s tired of me or…”

Harry had had enough. He didn’t care if he’d told Malfoy he’d let him tell Hermione in his own time, he was not about to sit there and let one of the best people he knew in the world fall apart because of some self-induced misunderstanding on her stubborn boyfriend’s part.

“Hermione, it’s not that at all,” he interjected before her tears could completely take over. She looked up at him with a pitiful expression and he decided on partial disclosure to begin with. “It truly is this thing with Lucius’ will. There were some things… well, one specific thing, really, that threw him for a bit of a loop. Narcissa, too. I know he’s trying to figure it out, trying to get some answers, but he’s not had much luck.” He shook his head and carded his fingers through his already-messy hair, “He was right pathetic when I saw him this afternoon.”

“But, then why hasn’t he explained that? Why didn’t he ask me to help him?” she pleaded, her eyes less watery, but her expression still full of confusion and hurt.

“Because he’s a pigheaded git and he wanted to solve it himself before he filled you in,” Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “For the record, I told him back on Saturday that he should tell you, and I know Narcissa did the same. For some Merlin-forsaken reason, he feels like he needs to have exhausted all avenues before he brings you in on it.”

“So it has to do with me then, doesn’t it?” Hermione’s brain started putting the pieces she’d originally scattered back together, “Lucius put something in there about him marrying me?”

The young Auror knew he couldn’t tell her the details of the will without breaking a legal oath, but he could point her in the right direction, so he shrugged, “Not you specifically.”

The petite brunette pursed her lips, a furrow forming in her brow as she tried to determine what his words meant, “But a clause about who he marries?”

Another shrug.

“Did that bigoted arse say his son could only marry a Pureblood witch?” she shrieked as it all fell into place in her mind.

Harry smirked at her and she smacked her hand down loudly on the table.

“That’s… That’s just ridiculous! He has no… UGH! Why couldn’t he just let his son live his life in peace!” Every few words were punctuated by the slamming of an object – her fork, knife, napkin (which wasn’t nearly as satisfying), notebook (which was banged on the wooden surface three times for good measure), and even her chair as she scooted forcefully back a bit.

A bit of tense silence hung about them for a minute as Hermione continued to work through what she knew, what she assumed, and what possibilities existed. Her eyes took on a faraway look as she processed it all, and Harry knew better than to interrupt the brilliant witch when she was in full-blown problem solving mode. Eventually, as he expected, she came back to her present surroundings and met him with a fiery glare that would have worried him, had he not known it wasn’t directed at him.

“I don’t know all that much about wills or legal documents, but would I be correct in saying that whatever Lucius wrote is unalterable, now that he is dead?”

“Yes,” Harry replied simply.

“Is that what Draco has been trying to find a way to do?”

“Yes.”

She scoffed, “There are other ways to get around it. I’m sure of it. He should have known that particular course of action would be fruitless.” Harry almost laughed at how quickly the witch he considered a sister had switched from heartbroken girlfriend to confident swot in a matter of seconds, but he knew his amusement would not be appreciated.

“I presume you’ll now be going to the library?” he couldn’t resist teasing.

A determined grimace was shot his way as Hermione huffed a breath and stood from the table, “Yes, I am.” With that, she spun on her heel and flounced out of the kitchen, leaving Harry feeling enormously relieved and only the tiniest bit guilty for the part he’d just played in setting her loose to tackle this dilemma. Draco would thank him for it… eventually.

ooOoo

Hermione spent several hours in Grimmauld Place’s small but fairly comprehensive library, finding a few examples of overturned wills that might be useful, but not enough to sate her determination to have multiple options. After just a few hours’ sleep, she was up and dressed and headed into the Ministry before Harry had even stumbled out of bed. She went to her office first, just to make sure everything was in order and to leave a note for Gethsemane that she would be down in the Archives until lunchtime, in case she was needed for any reason.

Then, she set of off for said Archives, hoping to locate a few specific texts and documents. By the time the actual work day had begun for most employees, she’d amassed a sizable collection of potential leads, but was still looking for a few more. She emerged from the depths of the stacks and sought out Anthony, who was ensconced at his desk, surrounded by piles of scrolls, files, and books that had all been returned. He was utterly shocked to see her, since he had no idea she’d been squirreling away back there, but was more than happy to help her find what she needed, and even suggested a few things she hadn’t considered.

Back up in her office, she fully immersed herself in the legal jargon and protocol that went into writing a will, as well as documented examples of cases in which a will was contested, rewritten, or even rendered entirely weightless based on specific circumstances. She took copious notes, checked and double-checked her sources, and was even more obsessively thorough than she’d been when preparing for her N.E.W.T.s, which was saying something. By the time the evening bell signaled the end of the workday, her office looked like a disaster area – crumpled balls of parchment littered the floor around an overflowing waste bin, the books and files she’d brought up from the Archives filled both chairs across from hers, as well as the space on the floor beside her desk. A half-dozen empty coffee cups were scattered across the credenza, along with a plate covered with biscuit crumbs, a half-eaten sandwich, and three empty crisp bags.

Her backside was numb and her spine positively aching, while her fingers protested being stretched out straight after being pinched around a quill for so long, and yet, she was utterly ecstatic. The five-page document laying neatly in the center of her wreck of a desk had been written, revised, rewritten, and perfected multiple times. She’d wanted it to be thorough and professional, yet not unnecessarily verbose. It was imperative that the examples she’d found be wholly applicable to the circumstances at hand, and she had to trim down some of her original arguments in an attempt to stick to the point.

The whole time she’d been working, a small storm had been gathering in the back of her mind. While she could understand Draco’s desire to handle the problem himself, she couldn’t help the irritation that sprang up at being kept in the dark. As selfish as it might sound, this _did_ directly affect her, too, and she should have been part of the discussion from the start. The fact that he still, almost an entire week later, hadn’t given any sort of explanation, but instead held her at arm’s length and made her feel like she’d done something wrong, rankled. Deeply. If they were to have a future together – and based on all she’d come across in the last nine hours, that was most definitely still a possibility – then he needed to get used to including her when major issues arose.

Her resolve firmly in place, she gathered up her carefully crafted line of reasoning, vanished the mess in her office, and headed home for the night. She was going to need a decent night’s sleep if tomorrow was going to go according to plan.

ooOoo

Saturday morning, Harry came trundling down the stairs set on seeking out a strong cup of coffee and (hopefully) one of Kreacher’s delicious breakfast pastries. What he’d not expected was to find Hermione sitting in the drawing room, apparently waiting for him.

“Uhh, g’morning?” he managed, wondering what exactly was going on. He’d not seen her much the day before, except in passing as she grabbed a plate of food off the supper table and rushed back up to her room, muttering something about a list of questions. He assumed she was working on something to do with Malfoy’s problematic circumstances, and though maybe she was jotting down some things she wanted him to ask the solicitor when he sat through the second meeting with Draco and Narcissa.

“Morning, Harry,” she said pleasantly, though he detected a hint of nervousness in her voice and noticed she was fidgeting with the cuff of her blouse, and…

“Why are you dressed like you’re going to the office?” he inquired with a slow sense of dread building in his gut.

“Oh,” she glanced down at her silk top and neat pencil skirt, “Well, I didn’t think it would do to meet with the solicitor in jeans and trainers.” Her wide brown eyes flickered back up at him, a brow raised in question.

“To meet with… You’re not… Are you planning to come with me to the Manor?” he couldn’t hide the apprehension he felt at the idea.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Well, of course, Harry. How else am I supposed to present the possible solutions I came up with? It’s not like I’ve had time to debrief you on my findings, so it just makes the most sense for me to do it myself.”

Harry dragged his hand down his face, feeling like it was far too early in the day, and a weekend no less, for him to be dealing with this. While he had absolutely no doubts about his best friend’s abilities, nor the soundness of her research, he quite thought that her simply showing up with him unannounced might cause a bit of a scene. Between Malfoy realizing she now knew about everything, and the solicitor (who had been most unhappy about Harry’s court-appointed presence last time) having another party introduced to the conversation, there would definitely be feathers ruffled.

He knew it would do no good to argue with her, so instead, he stomped off towards the kitchen where Kreacher did indeed have freshly baked cinnamon rolls waiting for him, though the pleasure he usually garnered from the delicious treat was overshadowed by his rising panic over what was about to take place. Gulping down a bracingly strong cup of coffee, he strode back into the drawing room and sank into a chair across from Hermione, who was reading over the parchments in her lap.

“He’s not going to be thrilled with me,” he groused.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like you sat down and spilled all the details. I figured out the basic gist on my own and went from there.” She shrugged and her expression hardened, “Plus, if he wanted to avoid something like this, he could have done the right thing and told me all of it in the first place. We could have worked on this together, but _noooo,_ Mr. I-don’t-need-anyone’s-help likes to suffer alone, apparently. Merlin forbid he admit he can’t handle something.” She was working herself up, which was the last thing she wanted to do, so she clamped her mouth shut and breathed deeply through her nose, trying to calm the pulse thundering in her ears. Closing her eyes, she spoke in a quieter voice, “I’m in this for the long haul, Harry. He needs to learn that we’re a team, no matter what.” She opened her eyes and found emerald green ones pinned on her, “I don’t know if the will states that he’ll lose the whole estate, or that he’ll be disowned from the Malfoy name, or that the Manor will instantaneously burst into flames the second he weds someone not from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but it doesn’t matter. I could care less if he has a sickle to his name; I just want _him_.” Her voice was thick with tears she valiantly held at bay, and Harry knew she meant it; had known this would be her stance from the beginning.

He nodded, knowing there was nothing for it, and stood, “Well then, what are we waiting for?” He offered a small smile, which she returned after taking a second to compose herself. Rolling up the parchment pages, she tucked them into her bag and stepped up to meet him at the hearth. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed by the fact that he’d already brought Malfoy back to the Manor from Hogwarts the night before. On the one hand, there would be no awkward meeting at his office, during which there wouldn’t be nearly enough time to hash out what exactly was going on, but on the other, they would be walking straight into the meeting with no preamble whatsoever. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or run screaming from the room.

He did neither, and instead, escorted his best friend through the bright green flames, and out into the elegant foyer of the stately home he’d become so familiar with over the last year and a half. Merry met them with a polite curtsy and informed them that everyone else was already in the front parlor, and Harry groaned internally when he realized Hemmings was part of that grouping. Now there would definitely not be any time for explanations. Sucking in a fortifying breath, he gently took hold of Hermione’s elbow and steered her towards the cheerful, sunlit room where three sets of eyes landed on them in varying degrees of confusion and surprise.

Though she was sure Narcissa and the solicitor were curious as to her presence, Hermione only had eyes for Draco, who looked more weary and troubled than she’d ever seen him. Her heart clenched at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes, and the slumped set of his shoulders, and yet, at the same time, a spark of indignation flared when she considered that this all could have been avoided. His pewter orbs flew wide when he took her in, and his mouth gaped slightly in shock. He looked between Harry and her repeatedly in quick succession, and she saw her best friend’s shoulders shrug and knew he was wordlessly apologizing for his part in her enlightenment.

Narcissa was the first to recover and, ever the gracious hostess, moved to embrace Hermione in welcome, “Hermione, it’s lovely to see you!” Once wrapped in her arms, the older witch whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here.” When she pulled back, she grasped her guest’s arms gently but firmly and met her gaze intently, wordlessly offering her support and appreciation. Hermione nodded in understanding and turned to find Harry and Draco in a silent conversation all their own; Draco looking panicked and angry, Harry simply shaking his head in a “ _what else could I do_ ” sort of way.

Hemmings observed all of it with increasing wariness, noting the tension in the room and the odd glances being exchanged. In an attempt to move things along, he cleared his throat and offered his hand to the newest addition to their number, “Miss Granger, I am Nicholas Hemmings, solicitor for the Malfoy estate. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you,” she shook his hand and flashed him a polite smile before sitting in the chair Narcissa had magicked over for her, right next to Draco, who she was pointedly refusing to look at for the moment.

For his part, Draco was internally floundering. He had no idea why Hermione was there, but had a sneaking suspicion she’d come to argue the contents of the will. It was taking Herculean effort not to pull her into his arms and tell her every horrible detail of the stressful, depressing, utterly frustrating week he’d endured, but that would have to wait until later when she wasn’t obviously ignoring him. He could practically feel the icy resentment rolling off her in frigid waves, and though he wanted to defend himself, he knew he really didn’t have a leg to stand on. Harry and his mother had both tried, more than once, to get him to include her in the whole sordid ordeal, but he’d refused, and now he was going to have to face whatever wrath he’d incurred.

Forcing himself to turn his attention to the reason for this meeting, and the solicitor presiding over it, he tuned back into the conversation as Hemmings was making a polite inquiry as to Hermione’s presence.

“So, Miss Granger, is there a particular reason you are joining us today?”

“Yes, actually. I’ve found several possible ways around the stipulations Lucius included in his testament, and wanted to discuss them with you,” her voice was steady and businesslike, her smile sweet and genuine, but those who knew her best recognized the glint of determination in her eyes. The solicitor nodded with affable curiosity, while Harry settled in for what he was sure was going to be an impressive display, and Draco and Narcissa both fixed their gaze on the young woman with hopeful surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione to the rescue! We'll see if she accomplishes what she's set out to in the next chapter, and what happens with her and Draco as a result. Side note: I adore Harry. Always.  
> I've put up a new holiday one-shot entitled "Christmas Confessions," and would love for you to check it out! I've never really written things for specific seasonal events, but this is the second one I've churned out this month. Must be in a festive mood, I guess :)  
> I hope you all are safe and well and that this week has treated you kindly. Our schools just resorted back to online learning for the remainder of the term (which ends next Friday), which means my son is now home all day. I'm hoping to still keep up with my twice-a-week posts, but if the timing gets switched up next week, you'll know why.  
> Thanks so much for reading and sticking with me! <3


	70. Where There's a Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione shares her findings, but realizes she may have assumed too much, and a decision is made.

“By all means then, Miss Granger, please go ahead,” Hemmings gestured to Hermione, who brandished her roll of parchment from the depths of her beaded bag and gently unfurled it in her lap. Harry snorted under his breath, mildly annoyed by the obvious brown-nosing happening with the solicitor, whereas his own presence had been merely tolerated the last time. He supposed Hemmings was smart to indulge the Gryffindor Princess, as she was the significant other of his client, and clearly involved in the whole thing, but still. This was the first time he’d experienced being shunted to the side for one of the other Golden Trio members, and he sheepishly recognized the blow to his ego for what it was.

“Would it be possible for you to read the portion of the will that deals with Draco’s marriage for me? I’ve yet to actually hear the precise wording of it,” she requested, ignoring the badly-concealed shock on the solicitor’s face, as well as the small, embarrassed groan from her boyfriend who positively shrank down in his chair.

“Oh, of course,” Hemmings was quick to find the passage in question and read it aloud at once. “The Malfoy Estate, including all lands, structures, vaults and their contents within, investments, and shares in all aforementioned businesses will become the responsibility and entitlement of my sole heir, Draco Lucius Malfoy, upon such time as he has been wed to a Pureblood witch in a magical, binding ceremony, with the customary contracts completed and signed.”

“Thank you,” Hermione nodded at the man, “I assume that it is legally impossible to change the actual wording, now that Lucius has passed?”

“Yes, quite,” Hemmings replied immediately.

“However, there have been cases over the years in which a will has been contested or circumvented, correct?” she continued her line of questioning.

“Ah, yes, there have been a few,” Hemmings looked unsure of what she was hedging towards, “But those cases are rare, and even when it has seemed that substantial evidence was gathered, the result was not always in favor of the family members making the plea. It’s very difficult to get around the bindings of a last will and testament. It is not like a marriage contract or business agreement; since the author would obviously not be available to challenge or compromise with, the document usually stands as is.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, glanced down at the pages in her hands, and forged ahead, “I have come across several different courses of action that could be taken to negate the supposition that Draco would marry a Pureblood witch. For example, under the “Protection Against Undue Prejudice Act” of 1818, Lucius’ specific qualifications for his future daughter-in-law could be viewed as biased and bigoted, especially in today’s post-war climate. It could be argued that his extreme opposition to anyone outside the Pureblood circle skewed his world view to the extent that he forbid his son and only heir from marrying anyone not meeting that stringent qualification. As his actions before and during the war clearly showed his prejudice to be not only deeply seated, but also volatile and dangerous, it would not take much to assume that should he have been alive to see us betrothed, I might have come to serious harm by his hand.”

She paused and let her words settle amongst the group, knowing that this was not enjoyable for Draco or Narcissa to hear, but also fully aware that it needed to be phrased as forcefully as possible in order to get her point across. Hemmings was gaping at her like a fish out of water, and after counting to ten in her head and determining that to be a sufficient amount of time for the information to be processed, she continued on.

“If you do not deem that to be a viable option, you could take his connection with Voldemort into consideration and claim he was mentally unstable, which would make everything in the will subject to question. Again, in this post-war setting, few would be willing to say anyone who followed that vile psychopath with the level of obedience and devotion as Lucius could be entirely within their right mind. The will was written after Voldemort initially disappeared, but it is common knowledge that Lucius was a major supporter back then; a mantel he picked back up as soon as his master resurrected. I believe that particular argument could be supported by both the “Evidence of Cognizance and Lucidity Clause,” from 1903, as well as the “Psychological Faculties Amendment” of 1958.” She flipped to the next page before glancing at her audience, three of whom were still staring at her as if she’d sprouted tentacles, while Harry tried valiantly to hide a grin, his eyes dancing with mirth at her performance thus far.

Hermione decided not to wait as long before launching the next portion of her argument, knowing that this would be the more likely road to take, but she’d wanted to make it abundantly clear that she’d done her homework for this.

“We could also go in an entirely different direction, and navigate around the will in general. Would I be correct in assuming that if Draco never married at all, the estate would remain in Narcissa’s name?”

“Yes, Lady Malfoy is currently the executer of the estate in its entirety, though young Mister Malfoy has taken over the bulk of the business dealings since his late father’s incarceration. They have simply cosigned any necessary documents, as Lucius’ heir is named as the secondary on all accounts.”

The young witch nodded once and dove back in, “Then it would stand to reason that Narcissa, as the current administrator, would have the right and the ability to draft her own will, stating that upon her passing, the estate would go to her son, thus carrying on the Malfoy line of inheritance. However, it should also be possible for her to create a legal contract naming Draco her equal partner at this time, instead of a secondary. While the titles would not be transferred to him per say, he would still be given control of all accounts, properties, holdings, etcetera, just as if he would have come into his inheritance after his marriage.”

Three heads were nodding slowly in agreeable understanding, though Draco seemed stunned into immobile silence, his eyes fixed on the pretty witch next to him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“The last option I was able to uncover has to do with the sale of the estate. This tactic is much more common in the Muggle world, but I found nothing to render it any less legal or practical in a magical setting. There are many instances in which family members or friends wish to transfer items of great monetary value to one another, and in order to make it official, a bill of sale is required. For example, my uncle wished to sell his car to his next door neighbor, a young man who often helped him with yard work and other household tasks. He wanted the transaction to be legally traceable and valid, and as such, drew up a bill of sale for five pounds, which is the equivalent of a knut in our world. If Narcissa so chose to, she could technically sell the estate in its entirety to Draco for whatever price she named, and once the money exchanged hands and the papers were signed, it would be solely his.”

This being her final proposition, she leaned back in her seat and had to stop herself from expelling a loud huff of air in relief that, at the very least, she’d done what she came to do. Now it was up to the Malfoys and their solicitor to decide the best course of action. She knew what she would choose, if it was up to her, but it wasn’t, and so she was content to sit back and let them take the reins from now on.

Hemmings was still looking at her as if she was some sort of anomaly; wide-eyed and slack-jawed and apparently at a loss for words for several beats after she’d finished. From the corner of her eye, she could see Narcissa beaming at her, and Harry was grinning outright by this point. She continued to avoid looking at Draco, still feeling a mixture of frustration and disappointment with his decision to keep this from her, while also aching for the obvious toll this whole thing had taken on him. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and assure him that everything was going to be fine; to take away the physical evidence of stress and strain that were clearly visible on his person. She stayed put, however, determined in her resolve to see this through in as professional a manner as possible, and save the emotional interaction for later on.

The solicitor cleared his throat and held out his hand, “Could I see the documents you brought with you, please, Miss Granger?”

“Of course,” she handed them to him with a small smile and had to bite the inside of her cheek at the various expressions that flashed across his face as he perused her findings.

Well,” he cleared his throat and straightened his perfectly-neat tie when he came to the bottom of the last page a minute later, having only skimmed the contents, “You certainly did the thing properly.” He offered her a kind smile and a nod of his head before glancing at his two clients, “There are definitely options here for us to pursue, should you desire it.” He paused, his brow furrowed and his gaze dropped back to the parchment as he rolled it up and handed it to its author, “However, it might be… prudent… for us to wait on any definitive motion until things are… until there is no question…” Hemmings was clearly struggling with how to word his train of thought, and at first Hermione assumed he was trying to refrain from insulting her amateur legal work, which she couldn’t be fussed about, but Draco keyed in on a completely different point.

“You think we should wait until I’m actually betrothed or engaged,” his voice was low, but not defeated like his countenance had been since the start of the meeting. If anything, there was a dangerous bite to it that Hermione didn’t understand and, without remembering her earlier resolution, she looked at the pale wizard for clarification. It came from Hemmings, instead.

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat again, obviously nervous about what he felt he needed to say, “Even betrothals under magical contract can be terminated, and as there is no official… understanding here…” he waved his hand vaguely between Draco and Hermione and suddenly, she understands.

The solicitor clearly thought there was a good chance their relationship wouldn’t last; that they would end things before further steps were taken. She rationalized his theory, knowing that lots of young couples don’t make it all the way to the altar, and suddenly, she felt extremely foolish and presumptuous. No, she didn’t have a ring on her finger yet, but she had thought that was the direction they were heading, but now that she _really_ thought about it, she realized they’d never actually had a serious conversation about their future, and what if… what if…

_Oh, Godric, what if he didn’t want to marry her?_

She shot up from her chair quick enough to make her head spin and looked past Draco to Narcissa, “I’m sorry. I need… I need to go.” With that choked pronouncement, she bolted from the room while four people stared at her in total confusion. As she scurried back towards the fireplace in the foyer, she chastised herself for being so headstrong – for leaping ahead without any solid reason to – for basing her certainty of a future with Draco on a handful of teasing quips and romantic gestures. Yes, he’d asked her what she would have said after Theo proposed to Luna, but it still wasn’t concrete evidence of his own intentions. She knew he loved her, but…

Her cheeks were flaming with humiliation, her eyes stinging with tears, and her heart pounding a painful, broken rhythm as she reached blindly for the decorative container that held the floo powder. Just as her fingers grazed the painted surface, a voice startled her.

“Hermione!” Draco came barreling around the corner, shouting her name before noticing she was still there, and his abrupt appearance jolted her so badly she flinched and knocked the small vase to the marble floor, where it shattered into a million pieces mingled with the glittery green dust.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, tears now streaming down her face.

“Hermione,” Draco was in front of her now, his hands gently gripping her shoulders, his knees bent so he could meet her at eye level, “Hermione, love, what is going on?”

But all she could focus on were the shards of porcelain all over the polished, gleaming surface. She felt like it was the visual representation of her heart at that moment, even though a tiny voice in the back of her mind chided her for being so dramatic, but she couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her gaze still fixed on the sparkling mess.

Draco huffed in exasperation and let go of one shoulder simply to take out his wand and vanish it all, “I don’t care about that.” He stooped down even further, attempting to meet her reluctant gaze, “Hermione, please, talk to me.”

“I… I don’t know… I didn’t think…” she wasn’t sure how to put her rapidly spiraling thoughts into words and was mortified with the sentence her brain chose to string together, “I don’t even know if you want to marry me!” It was apparently all she could manage before the floodgates opened and wracking sobs shook her whole body and she covered her face with her hands.

Draco’s arms acted automatically, pulling her to him and holding her close, but his mind was struggling to keep up.

_She didn’t know if he wanted to marry her?_

**_What?_ **

_Merlin’s pants, how could she not know?_

But then he thought about it. Really thought about it. And he knew she was right, and he also knew it was entirely his fault. Hadn’t Theo told him he was being ridiculous? Hadn’t Potter told him he was making a big deal out of things that didn’t matter? He had been so hung up on getting past his probation and having a solid future to offer her that he refrained from talking at any length with her about his intentions. Sure, they joked about it now and then, and his brain had created quite a vivid fantasy for him that he'd kept entirely to himself, but he’d never spelled it out for her. He supposed now would be a good time to fix that.

She was still crying quietly in his arms and it broke his heart to see his witch, who was one of the strongest women he’d ever met, reduced to such a state, and he hated that he was the one who’d caused it. He stroked one hand up and down her back in a soothing gesture while his other cradled her head to his heart, her soft curls spiraling between his fingers. His chest was tight as he began to speak.

“Hermione, this is all my fault. I should have told you about the contents of the will a week ago, as soon as I found out. I didn’t because… well, because I wanted to try to find a way to change it. I wanted to have answers, or another option, or… I don’t even know what exactly I wanted, but something better than what was on those pages, before I brought you in on it. I didn’t want you to think I was just resigned to accept it.”

He heaved a deep, tired sigh, “But more than that, it’s my fault that you even had to question my feelings for you, my intentions towards you, or my plans for our future. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a future without you. Anything that could possibly exist for me, any job opportunities or personal endeavors, none of it matters unless you’re there to share it with me. I thought you knew that, but I realize I’ve never come straight out and said it, so I’m saying it now.” He shifted and pulled back just enough to bring the hand on her head around to her cheek, his thumb nudging her chin up so she would meet his gaze. The mixture of longing and wariness and vulnerability he found in her chocolate depths made his own eyes prickle and he swallowed roughly around the lump in his throat.

“I love you, Hermione. I know I’ve told you that hundreds of times by now, but I mean it from the depths of my soul. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, regardless of whether I’m a wealthy estate owner or an hourly-wage store clerk. I want to put a ring on your finger in some obnoxiously romantic gesture. I want to marry you in front of our family and friends. I want the world to know that you are mine and I am yours until the end of time. I want to have mini versions of the two of us, brilliant, beautiful little ones who’ll contain all our best qualities. I want to share every moment – good or bad, big or small – with you and only you.”

He paused before forcing himself to say the last bit, “But only if that’s what you want, too.”

The whole time he’d poured his heart out, her eyes had never left his, and they were still locked on them as he finished. She blinked and a lone tear made its way down her still-pink cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.

She nodded and whispered, “I do want that. All of that. With you.”

Draco felt like his heart might burst from a combination of elation at her words and adrenaline from all that had taken place in such a short span of time, but he simply let out a heavy breath and leaned in to kiss her. It’s soft at first, almost timid after his weighty confession, but soon Hermione grabbed the front of his shirt and increased the pressure of their lips. The connection was hungry and desperate, and he knew if they’d been alone somewhere else, anywhere else that wasn’t the wide open entryway of his home, things would have started moving at a rapid pace.

As it was, The Greatest Interrupter of All Time chose that moment to come looking for them.

“Oh, uhh, right,” Harry came to an abrupt halt as he rounded the corner and found them wrapped in each other’s arms. “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” he smirked and Draco responded with a low growl that only made Harry’s expression widen. “Right, then, so whenever you’re ready,” he cocked his head towards the direction he’d come from, indicating that everyone was waiting for them to return.

“We’ll be right there,” Draco groused and rolled his eyes as his former enemy snorted and disappeared back down the hall. He peered down at the witch in his arms who was now looking rather sheepish, “I do think we need to continue this conversation, but perhaps we should finish our meeting with Hemmings first and let the poor man escape back to his office. This is the second visit in a row that he’s had to deal with a scene of emotional upheaval here, and I’m sure he thinks we’ve all gone round the bend by now.” This earned him a small chuckle as Hermione nodded in agreement and stepped out of his embrace to straighten her hair and clothes a little.

Holding his hand out to her, he asked, “Shall we?”

She blushed prettily and her lips quirked in a small smile as her fingers intertwined with his, “We shall.”

ooOoo

The rest of the meeting with the solicitor went much smoother and with far less theatrics than the earlier portion. Draco made it perfectly clear that he had every intention of marrying Hermione, and that even though no betrothal contract had been drawn up, nor a ring placed on her finger yet, that he wanted to start the process of circumventing Lucius’ will.

While no one in that room, save for perhaps Hemmings himself, had any qualms about besmirching the late Malfoy patriarch’s mental capacity or imposing reputation, they did all agree that going through a full-fledged trial to dispute Lucius’ lucidity would be a time-consuming and stressful ordeal. It also was determined that the sale of the estate, even if it was to Draco, would remove the traditional act of passing down the inheritance, and he would (at least on paper) then be only considered the owner of it all, and not the heir to the family fortune. It was a technicality, but one that could have repercussions for future generations, and they all thought it was best to avoid that if possible.

So, the course of action decided upon, and the one Hermione had thought the most reasonable and probable to begin with, was that Narcissa would make Draco her equal in the role of a co-executer, as well as draft her own will, naming him the sole heir to the entire estate upon her passing. The elegant witch even requested that specific wording be included to guarantee that Draco’s children would fall in line next, and she also insisted that Hermione be added as the secondary on all accounts. At first, the younger witch balked at the gesture, but Narcissa was firm.

“I do not wish to be maudlin, my dear, but should something happen to both Draco and myself, before your children come of age, I need to know our legacy will be in good hands,” she smiled at Hermione who was clearly flustered by the honor bestowed upon her, as well as the implication of future offspring.

Nicholas Hemmings seemed very pleased with the end result of this second visit to the Manor, regardless of the rocky start to it all. He assured them he would give the new documents his full attention over the next few days and would be sending a draft for them to inspect as soon as possible. As he shook hands all around, he stammered over his words to Hermione, slightly bashful it seemed, as he made a simple request.

“Miss Granger, do you think you could make a copy of your findings for me? I would greatly appreciate having them on hand for any future cases similar to this. I feel that in this, to use your own words, _post-war climate_ , there will be many such instances where more traditional views are questioned and challenged.”

“Oh! Of course,” she replied, surprised but pleased at his acknowledgement of the changing times. “You can just have this. I don’t think I’ll have a need for it anymore,” she flashed a shy smile at Draco who grinned rakishly at her, and handed the rolled parchment to the older man.

After bidding farewell to the solicitor, Harry prepared to take his own leave, though not without giving the young couple a piece of his mind.

“You,” he pointed forcefully at Draco, “made this a million times more difficult than it needed to be, and you,” he turned his exasperated glare on Hermione, “are never allowed to turn into a nervous, weeping wreck again. My brain doesn’t know how to handle the most formidable witch I know dissolving into a lovesick mess.” He snorted indelicately and crossed his arms in mock sternness, “The two of you are far too independent and self-reliant for your own good – learn to communicate better because I’m not going to avoid my own house on either of your behalf’s ever again!”

Draco released a hearty guffaw while Hermione’s brows shot up and her jaw dropped open, “You were avoiding coming home?”

“All week!” Harry threw his hands in the air, “I was terrified you were going to ask me more questions about the will and you know I’m pants at lying to you, so I just stayed at the office as long as I could stand every day. It was torture! I finished every ounce of paperwork on my desk!”

At that, they all laughed, even Narcissa, who had approached towards the end of the Golden Boy’s tirade.

“I must say, I agree with Harry,” the older witch pursed her lips, clearly trying not to smile outright, “Honesty and openness is never a bad thing in a relationship, regardless of how awkward or difficult the topic. Though I thoroughly appreciated the chance to see you in your element, Hermione.” She beamed at the petite brunette, “Your arguments were quite impressive. You must have spent a substantial amount of time putting all that together.”

“Wait, when exactly did you find out?” Draco interjected curiously.

“Thursday evening,” she answered in a small voice.

“You did all this in one day?” Narcissa couldn’t hide her obvious awe.

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Hermione was turning pinker by the second, and staring fixedly at the floor, “I mean, I started Thursday night, so technically…”

But Harry cut her off, “Yes, she pulled it off in less than twenty-four hours. As soon as she put two-and-two together, she tackled the small library at Grimmauld, and then made a beeline for the Archives first thing Friday morning. She was gone before I even woke up, and didn’t come home until after dinner, when she shut herself up in her room to practice her questions.” He shot a shrewd look at his wide-eyed flat-mate, “It’s not like you cast a silencing charm.”

“Quite impressive, my dear,” Narcissa smiled warmly at her, “Quite impressive, indeed.”

“Like that’s any surprise,” Draco teased, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and tugging her into his side, placing a quick kiss to the top of her curls.

Harry glanced at his watch, “Well, I’m going to see if I can still make the last bit of the Harpies game on the wireless. See you at home later?” He cocked a brow at Hermione who nodded and smiled, still embarrassed at all the accolades. He pulled her in for a quick hug, shook Draco’s hand and kissed Narcissa’s cheek before saying a general farewell, stepping into the hearth, and disappearing in a _whoosh_ of green flames.

“I’m going to find Andromeda and let her know what all has taken place. She was so very concerned about both of you,” she looked fondly at the young couple, “I think this whole thing hit very close to home for her, after the way our parents reacted to her relationship with Ted. Her immediate response last weekend was that we should steal the will and alter Hemming’s memory so he’d have no recollection of its contents.” She chuckled wryly, “I told her I didn’t think it would come to anything so drastic, but promised to give her the first go if things did take a turn for the worst.”

“Mother! You can’t do something like that! They’d put you back in Azkaban,” Draco was horrified at the very notion.

Narcissa patted his cheek and smiled, “Oh, I wouldn’t have, dear. But there are ways to carry out a plan without getting one’s own hands dirty.” While he stood there gaping at her, she turned to Hermione and pulled her into a gentle hug, “I am so very glad you stepped in and saved the day. While I have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to ensure my son’s happiness, your way is much better.” They both giggled at that and with one more affectionate glance at the two young people, the Malfoy matriarch swept off down the corridor in search of her sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Only a little bit of drama here, right? Yet another example of how humans have a tendency to run headlong into things without considering all the angles, not to mention jumping to the absolute worst (and least reasonable) conclusions, especially when matters of the heart are involved. it's all good, though, and this might just have been the kick in the pants Draco needed to get his own wheels turning... And have I mentioned how much I love Harry? ;)  
> I hope this Monday starts off well for each of you! Thank you so much for reading and following along <3


	71. Cards on the Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco makes his intentions very clear, and Bill shares one of his favorite memories.

Hermione and Draco found themselves alone in the foyer once everyone else had left and a slightly awkward silence fell between them. Both knew there was much that needed to be said, but neither wanted to be the one to initiate the conversation.

Once again, Draco wound his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, glancing down with a bashful smirk, “Walk with me?”

Hermione nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as they fell in step with one another. They strolled down the long, quiet hall, and made their way out to the patio that was bathed in the warm light of the April afternoon. Neither spoke as they followed the familiar path to the rose garden where they eventually settled on one of the stone benches surrounding the fountain.

Draco took her hand in both of his and angled himself so he was facing her fully, though his eyes remained fixed on his thumb while it traced random patterns on her soft skin. He opened his mouth only to close it again, inhaled sharply through his nose and blew a forceful breath out between his lips. He’d never been good at this sort of thing; had been raised to believe that sharing his innermost thoughts and allowing his emotions to rise to the surface was a weakness. But he knew there were things Hermione needed to hear, and he needed to say them as openly and honestly as possible, stuffy Pureblood instructions be damned. He never again wanted the amazing witch beside him to doubt his love for her or his intentions for their future.

“Hermione, I’m so sorry. Not just for what happened today, but for the way I’ve approached this whole thing – our whole relationship.” He sighed and forced himself to meet her gaze, her warm brown eyes fixed on him without a hint of accusation or blame, only acceptance and love. “I have been envisioning a future with you since the day I told you I loved you on the couch in front of the fireplace in the Room. Do you remember that?”

“Of course,” she whispered, her smile soft.

He returned her smile, but then his brow furrowed and his lips turned downward in a slight frown, “As much as I’ve desired taking the logical next steps with you, I’ve been completely hung up on the idea that I have to be done with my sentencing in order to do it; that I need to have completed my probation and have a solid job lined up; that I should have something certain to offer you. The thought of you telling your friends and family that you’re engaged to a paroled convict… I know the Prophet will still have a field day with the fact I’m a former Death Eater, but I wanted to at least be free and clear of my charges and punishment.”

Her eyes had taken on a sheen again as she listened and she vehemently shook her head as he spoke, “Draco, I don’t care about any of that. Do you really think the technicalities matter to me?”

“I know, I know,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “That’s what Theo and Potter both said, but I just… I couldn’t let go of the notion that I needed to move past all of that before I was... deserving of you.” He shrugged, not knowing any other way to explain his thoughts on the matter and cringing at how humiliating the whole thing was.

Hermione brought the hand he wasn’t holding up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking his clean-shaven skin, “Draco Malfoy, you don’t need to do a single thing to be _deserving_ of me. If you truly need to work it out that way, you earned my heart the day you apologized for your past actions, and have continued to earn it every day since as you’ve proven over and over again that you are no longer that arrogant, bigoted prat.”

She leaned in then, and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before pulling back with a sheepish look on her face, “I need to apologize as well, for my dramatic outburst earlier. I had thrown myself into solving the problem of Lucius’ will without considering how it looked from the outside. We don’t have any sort of formal attachment between us, yet there I was, offering ways around that stipulation like I was already legally bound to the Malfoy name.” She huffed a low chuckle, “It kind of… hit me… all of a sudden. I’d been extremely presumptuous and assuming, which isn’t like me at all, and then I panicked because what if you didn’t really want a future with me? What if you felt like carrying on your heritage was more important? I would have understood, but it would…”

He didn’t let her finish that thought before swooping in and capturing her lips again. He kissed her long and ardently, bringing his hands up to hold her face so that when they broke apart to catch their breath, she had no choice but to look at him.

“No. I would never choose anything over you. I’d rather be working for a handful of knuts an hour if I have you by my side, than have all the gold in Gringott’s without you. I should have been honest with you from the start. Merlin, I shouldn’t have been so worried about something so meaningless in the first place. I’m trying, I promise I am, to let go of the whole self-sufficient mindset that’s been ingrained in me. I will do a better job of telling you what I’m thinking. I’ll become a bleeding Hufflepuff if that’s what it takes to show you that _you_ , Hermione, are all that matters to me.”

Her eyes were brimming with tears again, though he knew this time it was in happiness, so he forged ahead, “I want there to be no questions, no confusion, no misunderstanding about my intentions towards the future – our future – from here on out. While this is not an official proposal, because I don’t even have a ring, for Salazar’s sake, I want to make it abundantly clear that I _am_ going to ask you to marry me, sooner than I’d originally considered now that I’ve removed my head from my arse, and you will _have_ to say yes because I cannot possibly have endured the stress and heartache of this past week, not to mention the exhausting ordeal today, for nothing.” His rambling having come to an abrupt end, he snapped his mouth shut and arched a sardonic brow at her in challenge.

She let out a watery giggle and nodded, “Yes, whenever you get around to officially asking me to marry you, I promise I’ll say yes. Happy now?”

“Immensely,” he breathed before leaning down and kissing her left cheek. “Incredibly,” he kissed her right one. “Overwhelmingly,” he kissed her forehead. “Ecstatically,” he kissed her nose. “Incandescently,” he pressed his lips to hers and was rewarded with a small sigh as she melted into him. All he needed; all he wanted; was right here in this moment and he vowed to himself to never let any self-imposed barriers come between them again, while he continued to show her just how happy he truly was.

ooOoo

The week that followed was a bit of a blur for the ten housemates that once shared the Room. Hermione and Draco were both still reeling from the events of Saturday, each often caught up in their own thoughts about the prospect of a future together; one that seemed much more certain now than it had before. Every time Hermione remembered his uncharacteristic bout of word vomit when he’d made his intention to marry her clear, it brought a smile to her face. She hadn’t realized just how much she needed things to be set a little more firmly, but now that they were, there was something lighter about her heart. She didn’t really care when it happened, or how long they’d actually wind up waiting, as long as she knew that day would eventually come.

For his own part, Draco was almost giddy with elation – a most un-Malfoy-ish state of being – and he didn’t care one whit that he’d been walking around with a sappy, gormless grin on his face since Saturday. Some of the Seconds who knew him best even poked fun at him for being in such a good mood, not that he was ever grumpy or harsh with them, but they could clearly see the shift in his demeanor, especially since the week before had been so abysmal. Even Bill noticed.

“You seem to be in better spirits lately,” the DA Professor commented at the end of classes on Wednesday. “Should I assume that whatever was eating away at you last week has been settled satisfactorily?”

Draco froze as his mentor’s words registered. He’d not confided the specifics of the matter of Lucius’ will in Bill, though he had admitted that things were not what he’d expected and that it had thrown a bit of a bludger right through his plans. The older wizard had encouraged him not to give up, and also reminded him that things often have a way of working themselves out in ways we least expect. He hadn’t been wrong.

Feeling like he should fill in the blanks for the man who’d done so much to help him out over the last year, Draco nodded and sat down across from Bill on top of one of the student desks.

“Yes, things are much, much better,” he carded his fingers through his platinum locks and sighed, “To put it plainly, my father’s will included the assumption that I would marry a Pureblood witch. Obviously, Hermione is not one. I went into a panic and spent the whole of last week trying to find a way to change his stipulation.”

Bill’s eyes had grown wide as the story progressed, but he only nodded in understanding, indicating Draco should continue.

“I didn’t tell Hermione about it, even though I should have. I think Potter will hold it over my head for the rest of my life that he was right.” Both wizards laughed at that, neither of them doubting the genial hero’s affinity for teasing his friends. “She went into full-blown swot mode; reading, researching, drafting, and came up with a five page document listing multiple solutions that would work around the particular wording of the will, instead of attempting to actually change it. It was all rather brilliant, of course. Not that anyone would be surprised by that.”

“Too right,” Bill chortled softly.

“We talked afterwards about… everything… I’d been pushing any idea about proposals or engagements off until after I’d finished my sentence, thinking it would be better that way,” he shrugged and shook his head, “All it really did was make my thoughts and plans unclear to her, so I set the record straight.” A broad grin flashed across his handsome face and after looking slightly stunned, Bill mirrored his expression.

“So are you… officially…” the professor hedged.

“No, no, not yet. Merlin, I don’t have anything lined up for that yet. I don’t even have the ring! But I told her, in no uncertain terms, that I absolutely do plan to spend the rest of my life with her, so she should be prepared for a grand romantic gesture in the not so distant future.”

“Fantastic,” Bill crowed, clapping his hands together, “You let me know if you need any help carrying out whatever extravagant plan you concoct.”

“Will do,” Draco sniggered, “I know Hermione’s not one for ostentatious displays, but I definitely want to do something meaningful and unexpected. I want to surprise her, which is going to be a feat in and of itself since she’s so bloody observant.”

“Any ideas?”

“Not yet, but now that I’ve gotten over my self-made hurdles, I’ll definitely be thinking about it, so if you’ve got any suggestions…” his words trailed off as he considered something. “How did you propose to Fleur?”

A smug smirk crossed Bill’s scarred face, “Ah, now that was pure genius, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, really?” Draco snarked and waved a hand in a “ _carry on_ ” fashion, eager to hear the story.

“Ahh,” Bill leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms for a moment before raising one had to tap his forefinger against his chin in contemplation. “Well, once Fleur finished at Beauxbaton’s, she moved here and took an internship at Gringott’s to improve her English. At the time, I had accepted a rather boring desk job so I could be on hand to help the Order as much as possible. I had seen her a time or two, back during the Triwizard Tournament, when I came up here to see Harry. As there aren’t many younger staff members at the Goblin-run business, I made sure to officially introduce myself and help her navigate her first few weeks there. Of course, I was completely captivated by her from the off, but I chalked it up to her Veela heritage and didn’t put much stock in the smiles and winks and flirty behavior. Eventually, though, I realized I was attracted to _her_ , not just her other-worldly beauty or magnetism. She’s sweet and kind, very intelligent, and has a wicked sense of humor.”

The red-head grinned widely as he thought about his wife, clearly enjoying this trip down memory lane, “We started having lunch together several times a week, and spent Fridays at the Leaky after work, and soon we were seeking one another out at some point every single day, even just for tea in the tiny little breakroom down the hall. Honestly, it was those quiet moments, sitting at a ridiculously small table in a room no bigger than a broom cupboard that brought us closer together. I distinctly remember watching her fix her tea, which she does with mildly obsessive precision, by the way, and thinking “ _I’m going to marry this witch_.”

Bill leaned down and grabbed his satchel, which had been on the floor behind his desk, and began rummaging around in it as he went on, “By then, we’d been dating for a few months, and I decided to start being more intentional about the time we spent together, instead of just settling for the familiar, easy places we usually frequented. I took her to museums and concerts, open-air markets, festivals, all sorts of things. Having traveled as much as I did in previous years, I'd gained a great appreciation for other cultures, both Muggle and magical ones, and it turned out that she was more than happy to join in my fascination. As we approached the one-year mark, I decided to go for it. We went to the big Notting Hill Carnival, which celebrates Caribbean heritage, and is an amazing experience that I would highly recommend. There’s a massive parade, and all the participants are in elaborate costumes, and there’s dancing and music, street performers and these huge contraptions called floats…” his words drifted off for a beat as he pulled the item he’d been hunting out of his bag and held it out to Draco.

The pale blonde took it and saw that it was a photograph – a Muggle one he gathered, based on the fact that it wasn’t moving – containing a positively glowing Fleur and widely beaming Bill. They were standing up on some sort of colorful platform with what looked like people wearing feathers all around them. Their obvious joy was contagious, even in still form, and Draco smiled as he passed the picture back across the desk.

“I’d made friends with the man who sold newspapers on the corner near the Leaky, figuring it never hurt to keep up with non-magical news, and asked him who organized the whole thing. He pointed me in the direction of a local organization that handled a large portion of it, and I asked if they could help me pull off a surprise for my girlfriend. They were more than happy to, and all we had to do was make sure to stand in a specific spot to watch the parade and they would do the rest.” Bill hummed an amused little laugh and rubbed his hands together with relish, “Of course, I simply told Fleur it was the ideal spot to watch from. As the dancers I’d met approached, they interacted with the crowd, so it wasn’t unusual when two of them took Fleur by the hand and got her to follow them into the street. We danced our way around the back of their float, and they brought us up and had us stand right in the middle. Fleur was laughing and moving with the music, and when she turned to find me, I was already down on one knee with a ring in my hand. Had to shout my proposal, since it was bloody deafening out there, but she got the gist and said yes, and the whole time the dancers are stomping and waving and carrying on around us.”

Draco could picture it in his head and couldn’t help the grin that split his face or the happiness he felt for his friend and mentor.

“The crowd realized by then what was happening, and went absolutely insane. People were throwing flowers and feathers and beads at us, and the dancers told us to stay on the float and just wave to everyone for the next few blocks until the hubbub died down a bit. We did, and when they helped us off, I led Fleur to a much quieter spot and repeated my sentiments so she could actually hear them. Of course, she agreed again.” They both chuckled at the happy ending.

“How did you get that picture?” Draco was curious.

“I stopped by the organization the following week, just to thank them for their help, and one of the workers gave a whole stack of photographs to me; said her sister had been tasked with following the float and capturing the whole thing. This just happens to be one of my favorites,” he tapped the image still laying on his desk.

“Well, that’s amazing. I’m truly glad it all worked out for you. I don’t know that I’d have the nerve to do something so public, plus, I think Hermione would have a conniption if I tried,” he snorted inelegantly, “She hates being the center of attention, so anything I come up with will most definitely be sans audience.”

“I’m quite sure whatever you decide to do with be perfect for her,” Bill said supportively, “And honestly, while the proposal is a big, important moment, and the wedding even more so, they’re not what marriage is all about.” A thoughtful look came over him as a softer smile quirked his lips, “It’s the little things, the day-to-day patterns you establish, the life you share. That day with the parade was incredible, and something neither of us will ever forget, but it pales in comparison to waking up beside the woman I love every morning, or catching up with her over dinner at the end of each day.” He shrugged as he tucked the photograph back into his bag and stood up from his chair, “I’m sure we’ll have other exciting events in the years to come, but I’d give up all the flashy bits for a lazy Saturday morning on the couch with my wife and daughter a thousand times over. That probably proves I’m old and boring now, but,” he shrugged again, this time with a smirk and Draco huffed a chuckle in response.

As they parted ways outside the classroom door, Draco headed back to his quarters deep in thought. Bill’s words had resonated deep within him, echoing sentiments he’d already been feeling for quite some time. Yes, he wanted his proposal to Hermione to be special, and he had random impulses to buy her expensive gifts and make elaborate gestures, but what his heart really desired above all else was exactly what Bill had described. He wanted to start his day sharing breakfast and simple conversation with her, wanted to fall asleep tangled up in her, wanted to spend weekends side-by-side on the couch with a pile of new books between them. The images his brain conjured made warmth bloom in his chest and yet another smile blossom across his face, but he couldn’t help it. He knew one day they’d have all that, possibly sooner than he’d originally convinced himself they could. Now he just needed to start figuring out how to take that next step.

ooOoo

_Is everything all set for this weekend?_

_**I think so. Daphne and I are both taking Friday off so we can get out to Luna’s early and see what all needs to be done.**_

_Good idea._

_Neville and I are heading to Theo’s at the end of lessons. The rest will get there by 6._

**_I’m glad all the boys are celebrating with him._ **

**_I know he doesn’t know Harry and Ron all that well yet, but they’re excited for him and are looking forward to it._ **

_Well, as soon as he said he wanted some sort of colorful display to surprise Luna, I immediately thought of the Confetti Clouds, so it made sense to include Weasley._

_**You know how much I appreciate the fact that you like my friends now.**_

_Like is a strong word, Granger._

_**Oh, hush, Malfoy. You’re a big softie and you know it. You just don’t want anyone else to find out how friendly you really are under all those stuffy layers.**_

_I’m perfectly happy to let you get under my layers._

_**Yes, I’m sure you are.**_

**_Too bad you’ll be all the way out at Nott Manor while I’ll be at Luna’s with the rest of the girls._ **

_Perhaps we could orchestrate a private moment on Saturday…_

_**Draco, we are not going to sneak off to snog during our friends’ wedding!**_

_Not during the wedding._

_Just maybe after?_

_Or before?_

_While they’re dancing or eating cake or setting all the Nargles free?_

_**You’re ridiculous.**_

_Only for you._

_**Good thing I love you, then, yeah?**_

_A very good thing._

_I love you, too._

_**I’ll see you Saturday afternoon – 2 o’clock, right?**_

_Yes. Neville and I will set up the food then._

_I’ve tasked Blaise with getting Theo there at 3._

_**Perfect!**_

**_Thank you for helping with all of this._ **

_Of course, love._

_**I should turn in. I have seven reports to complete tomorrow, so I’m starting early.**_

_Well, good night then._

_Dream of me?_

_**Always do.**_

**_I love you._ **

_And I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite Slytherin seems to have turned a corner regarding his outlook for his future. Does this mean a proposal will be coming soon? Perhaps... ;) Just to give a bit of a timeline for this story as it continues; like the first one, it will conclude at the end of the school year, but that isn't where Draco and Hermione's tale will end. There will be a Part III, where all the loose ends will be tied up, big moments will be celebrated, pasts will finally be left behind, and futures will officially begin. I hope you'll stick with me for it - I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of you following this winding road with me. What started out as a small, simple idea for a story has turned into this massive thing, but I couldn't be happier about it :)   
> Hope everyone has a good weekend! <3


	72. Hens and Stags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friends gather to celebrate the soon-to-be bride and groom the night before the wedding.

Hermione and Daphne arrived at the Lovegoods’ just after breakfast on Friday morning. The oddly-shaped house was exactly as Hermione had remembered it on the outside, though the interior seemed a little more organized and well-kept than her previous visit. She wondered if that had to do with the fact that Luna and Theo lived there now so it wasn’t entirely up to Xenophilius to keep up with everything, or if they got rid of some of the clutter during their rebuilding after the Death Eater attack. Either way, it was a marked improvement and she was able to appreciate more of the unique items, artwork, potted plants, and eclectic feel of the place than she’d done before.

“Hello!” Luna’s airy voice trailed from upstairs, and both witches looked towards the spiral set of steps to see their sweet friend rushing down to greet them. She embraced both of them and bounced a little on her toes, beaming at them with obvious excitement and elation. “I’m so glad you’re here. Daddy’s gone down to the ceremony spot to make sure it’s neat and cleared, and to ward against any potential intruders. While I wouldn’t be bothered by a cluster of Humdingers or even Glumbumbles, he’s more worried about Doxies, which are often drawn to cheerful gatherings where they can wreak the most havoc, or even Wrackspurts, which can be very distracting.”

Both Daphne and Hermione simply nodded and hummed a noncommittal response, knowing better by now than to question anything their ethereal friend said about magical creatures (real or imagined). Instead, the pretty Pureblood held up her arms, which were full of delicate fabric, and asked for instructions.

“Where would you like me to put your gown and the dresses?”

“Oh, let’s go upstairs. My room isn’t quite big enough for everyone to get ready in, so I fixed Daddy’s print shop to suit instead,” as she spoke, Luna led them up the stairs she’d just descended, and upon arriving they were both pleasantly surprised by the sight before them.

Xeno’s printing press, work table, supplies, and massive writing desk had all be moved to one end of the sizable room, leaving more than half of the rest of the sunny space as what Luna had turned into a dressing room. There were multiple mirrors, several end tables, a variety of cushioned chairs and poufs, as well as a row of hooks along one wall, clearly designated for Daphne’s masterpieces. While the young couple had decided to forego any sort of official wedding party, Luna had still asked that each of her female friends wear similarly styled gowns in different colors. Theo, on the other hand, had requested his mates wear basic dress robes, but had flowers for their lapels and a new set of cufflinks for each of them.

“Oh, Daph, these are gorgeous,” Hermione exclaimed as she watched the young designer hang each piece on its own hook. They were identical in shape and material, with fluttery sleeves just like the ones Luna had chosen for her own dress, wide, round necklines, fitted bodices, and flowy, calf-length skirts made of several layers of the gauzy fabric. Hermione’s was a pale blue, Hannah’s a pastel pink, Padma’s a soft yellow, and Daphne’s a light green. Next to one another on the wall, they made a dream-like rainbow, but the most eye-catching was the one Luna would wear.

Alabaster white, which gave it the slightest pink tinge in the right light, the beautiful gown had short, ruffled sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a skirt composed of yards and yards of billowing chiffon. A delicate layer of lace covered the entire article and formed a small train off the back, and a thin ribbon accentuated the waistline. Dotted here and there were tiny sequins that reflected the light and gave a glittering effect to the whole thing.

“Oh, my,” Luna breathed as she took it in. Her wide blue eyes suddenly took on a glassy sheen, and she pressed her fingers to now-trembling lips.

“Luna, what’s wrong?” Daphne panicked, thinking she’d missed the mark with her design and immediately rummaging through her bag for her supplies to change whatever her friend didn’t like while Hermione wrapped her arm around the fairy-like witch.

“It’s perfect,” the former Ravenclaw whispered, reaching out her other hand to stall Daphne’s movements. “It’s more wonderful than I even imagined. How can I ever thank you enough?”

“Oh!” Daphne gave a small, relieved chuckle and hugged her friend tightly, “Just keep Theo in line from now on, and we’ll call it even.”

All three of the young women chuckled at that, and tears were wiped away as they set about preparing for the arrival of the rest of their roommates and guests later on that afternoon.

It had been decided, through many owls and floo-calls and hurried conversations, that the girls would gather at Luna’s house the day before the wedding to have a bit of a Hen Do, complete with fancy dinner, party games, and presents for the bride-to-be. Likewise, the wizards would all be gathering at Nott Manor for a Stag Party, though their plans were much more vague and seemed to center around firewhiskey and Quidditch.

Hermione had enlisted Kreacher’s help with the food, and he had happily obliged, spending the better part of two days in Number Twelve’s kitchen, surrounded by dainty hor d’oeuvres, fine china, elaborate pastries, and more fresh fruits and vegetables than the local farmer’s market. She’d paid very close attention to his lengthy and oddly specific instructions regarding the presentation of everything, but he had asked more than once if “ _Miss Hermione was positive she didn’t need Kreacher to just come along with her._ ” Finally, she gave in and asked if he minded, which it turned out he did not, and in fact, the wizened being set off for the Lovegood’s several hours before she’d been ready to go herself.

Luna had turned her bedroom into a bit of a dormitory, with cots set up in a semi-circle around her bed in the circular space. Hermione tossed her bag on one of them, while Daphne did the same on the one beside it before both looked up and gaped at the ceiling. The petite brunette remembered the lovely painting of Luna and her friends from years past (Hermione, Ginny, Harry, Neville, and Ron, all in a circle with the blonde witch above the bed), but she had added the rest of the housemates in a second ring outside the first. Now, Theo, Daphne, Dean, Hannah, Anthony, Padma, and Draco smiled down at them, as well, also interwoven with the glittery, gold writing of _friends,_ and a trail of tiny red hearts floating between the now-engaged pair.

“That’s absolutely wonderful,” Daphne complimented the creative artist, and Luna blushed and beamed with pleasure.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, “I like being reminded of those most important to me, even if Theo sometimes complains that it’s creepy to be stared at when we’re... you know…” All three of the witches dissolved into giggles at that, perfectly able to envision the snarky wizard saying exactly that.

“Luna,” Hermione suddenly had a thought, “Are you and Theo going on a honeymoon after the wedding?”

“Not right away,” Luna explained, “With Daddy leaving in less than a week, and the next issue of the Quibbler needing to go out at the end of the month, we decided to hold off for a bit. Plus, we haven’t really decided where we’d like to go.” She shrugged in her carefree way, and though Hermione was sure her intuitive friend didn’t mind not setting off immediately for a romantic holiday, she thought it would be nice if they could at least spend their first night or two away from where they were already living. Deciding that was something to ponder, she glanced at Daphne and they exchanged a nod of understanding before turning their attention back to the happy bride.

A short while later, Padma and Hannah stepped through the floo and were greeted with excited squeals and exuberant hugs. The dresses were admired again, and Padma showed everyone the flowers she’d brought for the centerpieces, as well as small bouquets for each of the four non-attendants, and a bigger one for the bride. In coordination with the colors Luna preferred, delicate hues of yellow, pink, blue, and white wildflowers, interspersed with sprigs lavender, and filled out with leafy greens were bound together with yards of lace ribbon. After being sufficiently _oohed_ and _ahhed_ over, the flowers were set on a table in the corner of the first floor sitting room with a light, cooling, stasis charm placed on them to keep them fresh.

Going back up to the bedroom, the newest arrivals chose their cots and made note of the fact that there were still two empty ones left.

“Who else is coming?” Hannah asked.

“Oh, Ginny and Pansy,” Luna explained as she rummaged around in her wardrobe for something. As a result, she missed the stunned look on her former roommates’ faces at the news, Padma even going so far as to mouth _“Pansy?”_ at Hermione, who looked to Daphne for confirmation. The young designer simply shrugged with her blue eyes wide, clearly expressing her own surprise at the announcement.

Luna’s muffled voice floated out from amongst her clothing collection, “Yes, they should be here just before dinner.” She reappeared, arms full of unidentifiable fuzzy things, “Of course I wanted to include Ginny, and as Pansy was the only other witch coming to the wedding, I felt bad not inviting her to join us.” She shrugged and smiled, “She’s known Theo for ages, and so I figured, since he’s already close with most of my friends, I should make the effort with his.”

With that, she beamed at them and turned to Hermione, who happened to be closest and held out her still-full arms a little, “Which color?”

“Umm,” Hermione glanced down at the rainbow of fluff, bemused, “How about that?” she pointed to a light purple puff and Luna shifted her hold on her treasures so the petite brunette could take it. When Hermione tugged on the proffered object, she realized with a mixture of delight and relief that it was a pair of fuzzy slippers – the kind that slip on and only cover the front half of your foot – with big fluffy pompoms decorating the top. “How fun!” the Golden Girl exclaimed, and immediately set about shucking off her trainers and sticking her feet into the comfortable house shoes.

Daphne, Padma, and Hannah all crowded around Luna, each choosing their own pair of pink, yellow, and green slippers respectively. The soon-to-be bride decided to gift a blue pair to Pansy, and a peach set to Ginny, and then pulled out her own which were a swirly combination of all the colors her friends now had. The five Eighth Years spent the next few hours catching up with one another and discussing the plan for the next day. With the Easter holiday coming up soon, the recent graduates had decided to use this happy occasion as a stand-in for their regular, monthly Game Night. Their Seconds had been disappointed, but understood that one could only cram so much into a calendar, and promises were made all around to make up for it in May.

“I wonder what the boys are up to?” Hannah mused as the five witches made their way downstairs to wait for Ginny and Pansy to arrive.

“I know Harry was in charge of picking up an obscene amount of pizza, and Draco was making sure there would be enough brooms for everyone,” Hermione offered.

“Who all is staying up there tonight?” Padma asked.

“Well, all five from our house, plus Harry, Ron, and Blaise. I think that’s it,” Hermione ticked the names off on her fingers.

“Yes, he kept the guest list small,” Luna smiled fondly, “We really just wanted to share this weekend with the people who are most important to us.”

“Well, we are honored to be here,” Daphne wrapped her arm around the ethereal blonde and gave her a squeeze, her words echoed by the others as well.

Just as they gathered in the sitting area, the floo roared to life and Ginny and Pansy stepped out in tandem, the first with a beaming smile on her face, the second with a look of nervous apprehension. The former Slytherin had nothing to worry about, however, as hugs were given all around as welcomes and excited chatter filled the air. Hermione offered to show the newcomers where to put their belongings, and in no time was back up in Luna’s cramped bedroom.

“These are amazing!” Ginny squealed as she kicked off her shoes and tried on the fluffy slippers, "Fleur has a similar pair she absolutely loves and she let me try them on back at Christmas. I’ve been meaning to get some for myself ever since.”

“Fleur has a pair of _these_?” Hermione could hardly believe the elegant part-Veela would ever wear something as silly and unfashionable as plush house-shoes, much less actually like them.

Ginny snorted, “Her feet got rather swollen towards the end of her pregnancy, and slippers were the most comfortable thing.” She shrugged, “Hers have glittery feathers on the toes, but they’re the same style as these.” She tapped her newly-clad feet on the floor in indication, and then looked at Pansy, who was still standing by her cot, holding her own pair of slippers and staring at them with a bemused look on her face.

“Alright there, Pansy?” the redheaded witch asked.

Dark eyes flickered between the two girls in the room, and a small frown creased Pansy’s brow as she looked back down at the pale blue fuzz currently clutched in her hands, “She got me a pair, too.” She met their mildly confused stares, “Why would she get me a pair? She doesn’t even know me, and it’s not like I was nice to her at school or anything.” She mumbled the last bit, glancing towards the floor in obvious chagrin.

“For starters, Luna pretty much likes everyone – gives everyone the benefit of the doubt from the off – right?” Ginny looked to Hermione for confirmation of her description of their friend and the Golden Girl nodded before adding her own thoughts.

“Plus, she knows that you and Theo are friends, so she wants you to feel welcome here, too,” she watched the Pureblood witch, who seemed to be wrestling with her own inner thoughts as she looked between her companions and back at the slippers again.

“I was horrid to all of you. I know that. Obviously, Ronald and I have talked at length about our… history… but,” she met their eyes with a look of hopeful desperation, “I’m sorry. For all of it. I don’t expect you to believe me or forgive me – Merlin knows I wouldn’t – but I am. Truly.” Her blurted apology was met with stunned silence for a few beats before Hermione rallied first.

“Pansy, there’s nothing to forgive. We were _children_. It’s over now; the war, the house rivalries, the animosity. We all made mistakes, and now we’re all doing our best to move forward and do better, yeah?”

Pansy still looked doubtful, so Ginny put in her own perfectly blunt two knuts, “If it helps you believe us, here: I forgive you for trying to turn my fiancée over to that noseless bastard, and for being a stuck-up bint during our entire school career. Good?”

Hermione couldn’t hide the snigger that escaped, but she was pleased to see a definite shift in Pansy’s demeanor at her friend’s words. The frown disappeared, and her shoulders relaxed as she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and sniffed.

“Being fashionable and having a taste for expensive things is not a crime, Ginerva,” Pansy snarked, but her eyes twinkled and a smirk tugged at the corner of her perfectly-painted lips.

“Yes, well, we’re about to be fashionably late to dinner, so let’s get a move on, shall we?” Hermione huffed and started towards the stairs, Ginny immediately on her heels, and Pansy, after changing into her unexpected gift from her host, scurried to catch up.

ooOoo

While the ladies were enjoying a multi-course, gourmet dinner around a beautifully set table, the men were letting their inner child run free at Nott Manor. The sprawling estate was almost as big, and just as impressive as the Malfoys’, and even though Theo had sold off most of the furniture, artwork, and decorative items, there was still more than enough left to make for a comfortable setting.

Three large and mismatched couches had been brought into the sitting room closest to the foyer, so it was easy to find for anyone arriving through the floo. Theo, with the help of Blaise who had arrived earlier in the day, had decided to move the pool table in there as well, and had also set up a large round table for cards or other games. A full drink cart was set up by the fireplace, where flames were crackling merrily even though the day had been warm and sunny.

Directly across the entryway was the formal dining room, which still housed a massive mahogany table that was now covered with pizza boxes, a variety of crisp bags, platters of biscuits and sweets, buckets of iced butterbeer, and a new and thoroughly addictive snack Harry had decided to introduce them to: loaded nachos.

“Potter, these are amazing,” Blaise held up a large chip, dripping with cheese and salsa as if toasting him. “You might need to show me where to get them.”

“No problem,” Harry grinned, “There’s quite a few places that sell them, but I happen to think Mestizo serves the best.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing to compare them to, but I’ll agree with you anyway,” Blaise consented with a smirk as he filled his plate for the third time with the new culinary delight.

“If this is how you lot turn out for a stag, I might need to get married every month,” Theo snarked as he perused the pizza toppings, trying to decide which he wanted for his fourth and fifth slices. Deciding on one with several types of meat, and another that just had fresh basil, mozzarella, and tomato slices, he took a large bit of the latter and gestured widely to the wizards milling about the vast dining room with him. “I mean, truly, who could ask for a better send-off from the single life? Piles of pizza, a stash of liquor, a bit of flying, and some friendly wagers around the pool table,” he waggled his eyebrows at the last part, earning himself a few sniggers and wide eyes.

“I’m not betting against you on anything, Theo,” Neville announced firmly, “Not after my humiliating loss last time we played Dungeons and Dragons.”

Theo laughed heartily at the friendly Gryffindor’s scowl, but Dean, Anthony, and Draco all stared bemusedly between the pair.

“You two placed bets on Dungeons?” Dean couldn’t believe it.

“How?” asked Anthony, “That’s not even a game with a clear winner – it’s a group effort!”

“How’d you swindle him?” Draco pinned Theo with a knowing smirk.

“No swindling,” the tall brunette shrugged, “I just happened to mention that I thought the Fire Giants would win, and also that the last treasure would contain a sun blade and at least twelve gemstones. Neville here disagreed, so we made a friendly wager on it.”

Neville snorted indelicately, “Friendly, my arse. He knew I had a bottle of Rosmerta’s best mead back in my quarters that I’d been planning to save for the next time Hannah and I… well… for when…” his ears were quickly turning an impressive shade of red as he stammered through his indignation, earning a boisterous round of guffaws from the fellows.

“Yes, and Luna and I enjoyed it very much a few days later, thank you,” Theo sniffed haughtily.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean held up both hands as if trying to stop traffic, “Are you referring to the last time we played? When we got up early to finish while the girls were all still asleep?”

Neville nodded, clearly still annoyed with the whole thing. Dean rounded back on Theo with narrowed eyes, “I distinctly remember you helping plan the battle, giving an edge to the Fire Giants with the triple roll.”

“I can’t control the dice,” Theo waved an airy hand as he munched on his sixth slice of pizza.

“No, but you were extremely insistent about us going back to the hidden room,” Draco interjected. "You knew what was in there?”

“Of course not,” Theo puffed up, “I just had a good feeling about it.”

Draco rolled his eyes, feeling quite sure his childhood friend had more than a good feeling, Slytherin that he was, but chuckled at the glower still present on Neville’s typically mild-mannered face. He clapped his fellow staff member on the shoulder, “No worries, we’ll go get another bottle on the way back up to the castle, yeah?”

“Or maybe Xeno has a fully-stocked cellar of his own,” Anthony suggested, “You could just nick a bottle and find a nice, quiet spot for you and Hannah…” But before he could finish his teasing thought, Neville started sputtering about _not doing anything of the sort_ , while Theo bellowed something about his wedding day being _besmirched by the carnal activities of his guests_. This sent all of the wizards into fits of hilarity as they started coming up with highly amusing, increasingly mortifying scenarios that portrayed Neville and his sweet girlfriend getting caught in various acts by Luna’s father.

Wheezing and winded, and properly stuffed full of Muggle fare, the eight wizards ambled across the foyer to the sitting room where Dean thought it would be a good time to teach them all how to play poker. After several practice hands, they all seemed to get the knack of it, and settled in for a more serious round, complete with piles of coins, tumblers of firewhiskey, and cigars.

“Where on Earth did you get these?” Ron goggled at the box of Gurkha Black Dragons.

“Ah, you recognize them?” Blaise grinned as he passed the box around.

“Yeah, Bill had one – only one – that had been a gift from some member of Turkish Wizarding Royalty after he’d removed a nasty curse from a vase or a pot or whatever,” Ron waved his hand dismissively, the details of the story clearly not nearly as important as the prize at the end. “Got it four years ago, but still hasn’t smoked it. Keeps it in some sort of protective box. Said it’s worth more than a month of Gringott’s wages!”

“It might just be,” Blaise nodded, “Though I wouldn’t know. These were a favorite of my mother’s sixth husband; he had several boxes in a locked and warded case in the closet. When he died, of course the enchantments disappeared, and she told me I could take them if I wanted to. I did enough research to find out they are considered one of the best brands out there, and that his collection was worth a small fortune.” The dark-skinned Italian grinned, “I only pull them out for special occasions, and this is the very first time I’ve ever brought a whole box anywhere. Consider yourselves lucky, mates.”

As he finished his little tale, he flicked his wand and lit everyone’s cigar, and for several moments the air was filled with a rich, heady smoke, and an almost-reverent silence as the young men enjoyed the experience with only a tiny bit of coughing at the offset.

The rest of the evening commenced in similar, manly fashion, complete with unruly teasing, raunchy jokes, exaggerated stories, and lots and lots of laughter. Theo had gifted each of his guests a small pouch of knuts and sickles to bet with during their poker games, and generously informed them they each got to keep whatever they had left at the end of the night. In the end, Anthony came out on top, with Harry close behind him. Theo pouted that they should have let him win, seeing as he was the man of the hour, but it was all in good fun and no one had any complaints as they made their way to the prepared guestrooms in the wee hours of the morning, looking forward to a good night’s sleep and the festivities to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love bringing the groups together to show how far they have all come since their early school days. I am a very firm supporter of allowing people to change and grow and mature, and I think especially after what this particular batch of young adults went through, there would be a great deal of that taking place. Theo and Luna's wedding is a celebration of that very thing, as is the development of Ron and Pansy's relationship (which will continue to evolve over time). Thanks so much for reading and commenting - I hope everyone has a great Monday! <3  
> **This is the dress that inspired the description of Luna's: https://www.etsy.com/listing/747517639/sophia-vintage-blush-wedding-dress-with?ref=shop_home_active_5&epik=dj0yJnU9T3FFdVRJSHFFclJvS3Y4SVdKRTd6VTFNcl9NTTJ5djAmcD0wJm49WkcwaXlqampQTk5nR2FvVHpDakRsZyZ0PUFBQUFBRl9Qd0tJ


	73. With This Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna and Theo officially tie the knot ;)

The morning of Theo and Luna’s wedding dawned with a cheerful brightness that perfectly suited the happiness of the occasion and the sweet, effervescent disposition of the young bride. The girls had all stayed up well past midnight, sharing ridiculous stories about their favorite wizards, and gifting Luna with the typical, frivolous items often associated with a bachelorette party – lingerie, perfume, silk sheets, bath salts, gourmet chocolates, champagne, and a book Padma had seen a fellow journalist reading for a review that was promised to be quite entertaining.

After a quick but entirely delicious breakfast (once again, provided by Kreacher), the witches began the lengthy process of getting themselves and the bride ready. Hannah was in charge of photographing the events of the day, so as soon as she was dressed, she began clicking away, capturing Ginny’s laughter as she tried to help Hermione untangle her curls from the zipper of her gown, and Pansy’s eye-roll at whatever fanciful notion Luna had just expressed while the dark-haired witch was putting finishing touches on her make-up. There were pictures of the dresses, the shoes, the flowers and jewelry; pictures of the intricate design of Luna’s hair, which Daphne had twisted into a knot of braids and curls; pictures of the girls together as a whole group, and then individual ones with their fairy-like friend.

When they made their way down the stairs and out into the back garden, Hannah was setting Luna up for some solo portraits when Xenophilius emerged from the house. The older gentleman had tucked himself away the evening before, saying he wanted them to enjoy their time together and not worry about him. He’d gone to dinner at Molly and Arthur’s, and planned to spend the remainder of his night reading in his bedroom, but Hermione absolutely insisted he at least make himself a plate of dessert and enjoy a glass of wine, and he happily complied with a fond smile and friendly wave to all of his daughter’s friends.

Thankfully, unlike Bill and Fleur’s wedding, the eccentric wizard decided to forego his omelette-colored robes in favor of a much nicer, much more becoming set of deep blue ones edged in silver, with tiny stars embroidered throughout. He had tears in his eyes as he approached his radiant child, but his voice was clear and strong when he took her hands in his own.

“Luna, my dear, you are an absolute vision. You look so very much like your mother; I know she would be incredibly proud of you and immensely happy for you,” he kissed her on the cheek and pulled something small and square out of his pocket. “This belonged to her, and she told me many years ago that she wanted to pass it on to you as part of a celebration,” he opened the box to show a delicate bracelet that seemed to be made of individual strands of gold, copper, and silver twined together. “I think this day suits perfectly, don’t you?” he smiled at his daughter as he plucked the shiny bangle from its container and draped it around her outstretched wrist. It glinted in the sunlight, and as Luna turned her arm this way and that, several tiny charms tinkled together near the clasp.

“What are these?” she asked, bringing it closer to her face for a better look.

“Well, your mother never did anything without a deep and symbolic meaning behind it, and this bracelet is no different,” Xeno smiled warmly, “To begin with, the three metals – copper, silver, and gold – represent the body, mind, and soul respectively. The matching ornaments are not simply decorative, but imbibed with deep enchantments to enhance the wearer’s conscience and magical abilities. The engraving on the copper charm is the rune for strength, on the silver the one for clarity, and on the gold the rune for tranquility.”

“It’s lovely, Daddy,” Luna beamed at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’m honored to wear it today and every day after.” They embraced gently, so as not to muss her dress or hair, and the girls gathered around them quietly sniffled and wiped their eyes, trying very hard not to interrupt the sweet moment.

Throughout the whole exchange, Hannah had continued to snap photographs, casting a silencing charm about herself so her movements wouldn’t detract from anything, and was quite certain she’d managed to capture several beautiful shots of the father and daughter. Once it was clear that the emotional interaction was over, she removed the spell and began instructing them on where to stand for a few other, more intentional pictures.

As the photo shoot continued, Hermione caught a flash of movement in her periphery and knew Draco and Neville must have arrived in the house. Excusing herself, she bustled off to see if they needed anything, and entered the cheerful kitchen in time to see the two men floating multiple trays, platters, baskets, and boxes all over the room while instructing three House Elves on where things should go.

“Need any help?” she asked as she marveled at the amount of food they’d brought along.

“Will we be doing this as a buffet, or a sit-down?” Draco asked as he strode over and kissed her lightly, smiling appreciatively at her fancy dress and done-up hair.

“Well, there’s only twenty of us,” Hermione began as she led him towards the door she’d just entered through. “We’ve got two long tables set up out here,” she waved at the sturdy wooden pieces, both of which were identical copies of the one inside the house where the witches had eaten dinner the night before.

“Why don’t we do appetizers and drinks as a small buffet, but then have the actual dinner served when everyone is seated?” Neville suggested, coming up behind them.

“That works,” Draco nodded and then turned to the trio of helpers that had accompanied him, “If that’s alright with you?”

The Elves stared at him for a beat as if he’d lost his mind, but quickly recovered and one stepped forward to respond, “Of course. We is happy to do whatever you’d prefer, Sir.”

With a start, Hermione recognized the tiny creature, “Alfie! How lovely to see you!”

The Elf puffed up with pride at being remembered by the curly-haired witch and bowed with a grin, “Hello, Miss. Alfie is most pleased to see you again, as well.”

“Now I’m even more excited for the food, since I know you’ve had a hand in preparing it,” she winked at him. “Thank you ever so much for helping us with Theo and Luna’s big day. I know they will be most appreciative.”

“We is happy to, Miss. It’s not every day the Hogwarts Elves get to do something special like this. We is very honored, indeed,” he bowed again before trotting off to instruct his two cohorts on where to the put items still hovering in the air above their heads.

Over the next hour, Draco, Neville, Hermione, Padma, and Anthony, who had shown up just a few minutes after the catering crew, turned the Lovegood’s slightly overgrown back garden into something elegant and welcoming. The two long tables were covered with white linens, their centers strewn with vines of eucalyptus that curled around glass jars of flowers, and stocky candles of varying sizes. Lanterns had been hung along the edges of the space, for even though it was just mid-afternoon, the wedding wasn’t until four o’clock, and by the time they sat down to eat the sun would be setting.

At the top of the low-walled garden, a buffet table was set up with all manner of finger foods and appetizers, and a drink cart sat catty-cornered to it with offerings of chilled pumpkin juice, butterbeer, Elf-made wine, and several bottles of champagne Theo had insisted Draco bring over from the Manor. In the opposite corner, a small round table was placed specifically to hold a deliciously lovely wedding cake: three tiers of whipped icing, decorated with piped swirls and dots, and topped with what appeared to be a figurine of two owls. Hermione was peering at the small, painted representations when Draco approached her.

“Barn owls,” he said by way of alerting her to his presence, gesturing to the topper, “Apparently they mate for life and Luna thought they were quite symbolic.”

Hermione giggled, “That’s actually more… subdued…or sensical… than I expected.”

“Normal. I think the word you’re actually looking for would be _normal_ ,” he joked and they both sniggered at the truth of his statement.

Spinning around to meet his gaze fully, she wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him, “This is truly lovely. You really do know how to plan quite the party, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco scoffed and looped one of his arms around her waist while twirling a loose curl around his other fingers, “Neville and I just basically made up a list of all the foods we knew they liked, and gave it to the Elves. The only thing we actually did was go pick up the drinks in the village… and the cake. We got that at Sweet Spells since Luna loves their raspberry buttercream, which is the filling in all the tiers. Oh, and we bought the guests’ gifts at Honeyduke’s. Thought everyone would like a small takeaway.”

As he spoke, he summoned a small box from one of the place settings, caught it in midair and offered it to the petite brunette. She glanced down at the gold cardboard lid and saw the words _“Thank you for joining us on our sweetest day! Love, Theo and Luna.”_ It was tied with a sparkly lilac ribbon that she didn’t want to undo and ruin the pretty packaging, so she simply looked back at Draco with a brow cocked in question.

“It’s just an assortment of their favorites: one caramel crème, one dark chocolate ganache, one chocolate cherry, one custard bonbon, and one orange fluff,” he shrugged and smirked. “Just something little. It’s easy to do for a group this size. The shop owner suggested the little inscription.”

“Well, I think it’s marvelous and I can’t wait for it all to start,” she popped up on her toes to kiss him and sank back down with another question. “Shouldn’t Theo be here by now? It’s almost quarter past three.”

“You’re right,” Draco cast about, looking for any sign of his long-time friend, “Blaise was supposed to have him…” but his musings were cut short by a bit of a commotion coming from the kitchen. The clanging of pots and pans, several muttered oaths, and a startled squeak filled the air as the young couple rushed to find out what was going on.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there,” Theo, dressed in his best robes, was frantically trying to scoop up handfuls of lettuce that had clearly been tossed from the large metal bowl still spinning on the floor a few feet away, right beside the frozen stance of a wide-eyed Alfie.

“Theo, what are you,” Draco began, but paused to take out his wand and magic the leafy greens back into the bowl, including the ones the lanky brunette was still clutching in his hands. “Please give those a thorough cleaning,” he instructed Alfie, who nodded and scurried off with one last bemused look at the newcomer.

Blaise was standing off to the side, rubbing the back of his head that seemed to be the reason several pots were swinging on their rack above the counter, a grimace on his face, “Got a little enthusiastic about Apparating and landed smack in the middle of their preparations instead of out on the lawn like we were supposed to.” He rolled his eyes and huffed, “I think this one might need a glass of Ogden’s for his nerves.”

“Nerves? Whatever would you be nervous about, Theo?” Hermione walked over to the groom and placed a calming hand on his arm, “You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” he insisted, but his bug-eyed stare and jittery behavior hinted otherwise, “I just… I just want it to go well. I want Luna to enjoy every second of it. I want… I want her to be sure…” his look of panic increased as he finally met the brown eyes trained on him with warmth and understanding.

“Luna loves you, Theo. With every fiber of her being, she absolutely adores you. She is more sure about marrying you than she is about the existence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and she’s firmly set on that one,” Hermione grinned with an impish glint in her eyes. “It’s all going to be perfect.”

“Yeah?” he gasped, his eyes pleading with her for reassurance.

“Yes,” she nodded firmly.

“Completely,” Draco confirmed.

“No question,” Blaise added.

A whoosh of air left the normally unruffled wizard and he looked utterly worn out from the state he’d worked himself into. Grinning sheepishly at his friends, he shook his head and snorted, “You’re right. You’re all right. I’m being an idiot.”

“Well, it’s not the first time,” Draco drawled.

“Nor will it be the last,” Blaise punched him lightly in the arm.

“If you’re quite finished with your mini-crisis,” Hermione straightened up to her full height, which still left her almost a head shorter than all three of the blokes around her, she put on her no-nonsense face and addressed Theo, “I believe you are expected down by the stream for pictures.”

Theo’s eyes widened comically before a huge grin split his handsome face, “Is she down there already?” Before Hermione could do more than nod, he spun on his heel and bolted from the house, all nerves apparently forgotten as he rushed to see his bride.

Taking a look around the now much quieter kitchen, it appeared all was back in order, the mess cleared away, and the Elves back to work preparing the dinner. Since their assistance wasn’t needed, the three went back out to the garden where Neville was lighting all the candles and lanterns, Padma was putting finishing touches on the centerpieces, and Anthony was making sure all the place settings were complete and properly aligned. Dean had arrived during the mishap inside and was setting up his portable DJ equipment at the opposite end of the enclosed space, where more lanterns had been hung and the stone floor had been cleared of all leaves and twigs to be used for dancing.

“This looks absolutely wonderful,” Hermione gasped as she took in the festive venue fully for the first time since it had come together. And she was right. The elegantly-set tables were the perfect focal point for the airy outdoor setting, and the buffet looked like something out of a gourmet magazine. She could not have been more pleased at how it had all turned out for the sweet couple and couldn’t wait for them to see it. Peering past Dean, down the gently sloping lawn towards the stream, she could see Theo approaching Luna. He’d slowed his pace by half and seemed to be taking his time getting to her; presumably drinking in the sight of the blue-eyed blonde who looked positively radiant in her custom gown, standing in a ray of golden sunlight at the edge of the trees that lined the bank. Hannah was still taking pictures, and Daphne was flitting around rearranging Luna’s gown and train and hair with every new pose.

Xenophilius spotted Theo and walked towards him, hand outstretched in greeting. Unheard words were exchanged as wide grins split both their faces, and after a beat, the older wizard clapped the younger on the shoulder before cocking his head in the direction of his daughter. Theo nodded and continued to make his way towards her. As soon as Luna noticed him, she passed her bouquet off to Daphne and turned to face him fully, gathering a bit of her skirt in one hand and lifting it off to the side to showcase the lacework, she twisted a bit from side to side so the flowy material would flutter in the breeze.

“What do you think?” she asked him as he stopped just a few feet away, an awed expression on his face.

“I think you are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen,” Theo choked out as his eyes raked over her from the top of her carefully styled waves to the hem of her one-of-a-kind dress. He held his hand out and she took it at once, a gentle smile quirking her lips. He spun her under his arm and she giggled, tripping towards him so that when she was facing him again, she had to place her hands on his chest to keep from falling over.

“You look quite dashing yourself,” she whispered before popping up on her toes and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek, causing him to blush in a very un-Theo-like way.

“I’d love to get some pictures of the two of you before everyone arrives, if you’d like?” Hannah interrupted with a grin and, as expected, the happy couple complied at once. The former Hufflepuff must have snapped a hundred photos in the next fifteen minutes: more formal poses of the bride and groom standing side-by-side, or with her back against his front, more relaxed ones of them sitting on a fallen log they claimed was a favorite spot of theirs, silly ones where they both peeked out from behind a tree, or where Theo carried her on his back while they both laughed at a private joke. No matter the lighting or the position, their joy was palpable and contagious.

“I didn’t think the groom was supposed to see the bride before the wedding?” Draco asked as he wrapped his arm around Hermione’s waist and they continued to watch the blissful pair.

“Is that a tradition for you, too?” she was surprised, thinking that to only be a Muggle notion.

“Typically,” he nodded, “But then, these two aren’t exactly _traditional_ in any sense, are they?”

She giggled, “I guess not. I’m so happy for them, and quite impressed with all we were able to pull off in such a short time for today.”

“Me, too,” he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of her neck, pressing kisses along the way.

“Remember what I said? No snogging at the wedding!”

“The wedding’s not started yet,” he countered, spinning her so she was facing him and gently cupping her cheeks with his palms. Slate-grey met chocolate-brown for a heartbeat before he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that left her reeling. When he pulled back to let her breathe, a self-satisfied grin blossomed across his face while she could only blink dazedly back at him.

“I’ll behave now,” he teased, linking his fingers through hers and tugging her down towards the spot where the ceremony would take place.

ooOoo

True to her unconventional nature, Luna had done away with rows or chairs or a center aisle to walk down. Instead, she’d requested that all of their guests stand in a circle around a beautiful arbor created with bent branches, interwoven vines, and beautiful flowers. Two flat, light grey paving stones had been placed on the ground, signaling where she and Theo would stand, and pairs of lanterns had been placed on either side of the archway to add a bit more light, since the spot they had chosen was shaded by the trees that lined the stream.

At Theo’s request, Dean found a way to magnify an instrumental track that would allow soft background music to be heard during the ceremony. As the four o’clock hour approached, guests began to gather at the site. In no time, the circle around the bride and groom was complete, with the last additions of Molly and Arthur (who are two of Xenophilius’ closest friends), and Bill and Fleur (who both Theo and Luna were very fond of and considered to be influential in a variety of ways in their lives).

Xenophilius was apparently licensed or certified or whatever one might need to be in the magical world, in order to perform a marriage ceremony, and thus took his place under the arbor, in front of his daughter and soon-to-be-son. He spoke of love and unity, of commitment and devotion; he shared a short, meaningful story about his own days of early marriage and the importance of putting your spouse’s needs before your own. Conjuring a pewter bowl holding a glittery powder and a small paintbrush, he traced specific runes on each of their hands: protection, unity, wisdom, and contentment. Once the lines were drawn, he spoke words in an unfamiliar tongue, and the symbols glowed bright for a moment before disappearing entirely from their skin.

Vanishing the bowl, he then pulled a length of sage green silk from the pocket of his robes and asked Theo and Luna to face each other, clasping hands, which they did at once. Wrapping the sash in an intricate pattern, he again spoke in a language most did not recognize, but the meaning was understood as the same glow emitted from their now-bound hands. When it faded, Luna tugged her hand free, untwined the silk, and then draped it over Theo’s shoulders before taking his hands in hers once more.

“Now,” said Xeno, looking at the young man, “Do you, Theodore Maximus, take Luna Pandora, to be your wedded wife?”

“Yes,” breathed Theo, his normally loud and confident voice hushed with emotion, his face more serious than anyone had seen in a long time, though his gaze never wavered from Luna’s.

“And do you, Luna Pandora, take Theodore Maximus, to be your wedded husband?”

“Yes,” Luna smiled serenely and squeezed Theo’s hands, a gesture he returned with a lopsided grin.

“As a token of your commitment to one another, you will now exchange rings,” Xeno held out his palm, on which rested two delicate bands, the smaller one of rose gold, the larger of gleaming silver. “These rings are a symbol of your love; there is no beginning and no end. They are made of precious metals that cannot be easily broken or tarnished, but are meant to endure. May your marriage be the same.” Stretching his hand out a little further, he indicated they should each take the ring meant for the other.

“Theodore, as you place the ring on Luna’s finger, please speak your vows.”

Theo nodded and cleared his throat, positioned the ring at the tip of Luna’s finger, and sucked in a fortifying breath. “Luna, I promise to love you and care for you, to support you and encourage you, to share life’s joys and endure life’s hardships with you. You are my dream come true, and I vow to spend the rest of my days showing you just how much I adore you.” Whether he had anything else to add or not, he was clearly overcome by emotion, clamping his lips together to keep them from trembling more than they already were, and blinking furiously to clear the tears from his eyes as he slid the band into place.

Tranquil as ever, Luna reached up and caressed his cheek with the knuckles of her right hand, since she was still holding his ring between her thumb and forefinger. She smiled softly and then refocused her attention back down on their hands. Bringing Theo’s ring to the tip of his finger, her airy voice floated out around them, “Theo, you are the other half of my heart and my soul. It is my life’s greatest blessing to love you, to walk beside you, to face whatever comes our way together. I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I will love you more tomorrow than I do now. You are a wonderful man, and I am proud to call you my husband.” She pushed the ring past his knuckle as he choked back a sob.

Theo wasn’t the only one fighting to keep it together – almost all of their housemates were wiping their eyes or sniffling quietly, knowing just how much this entire thing, but especially Luna’s words, meant to the lanky Pureblood. Hermione couldn’t help but draw a slight comparison between the dark-haired jokester and her emerald-eyed best friend. Both young men had been raised in households where they were constantly belittled and berated, and left entirely to their own devices for most of their formative years. Harry had found love and acceptance with the Weasleys, as had Theo with the Lovegoods. Her heart hurt for all they had endured, but she was so very glad they now had people in their lives who stood by them and appreciated them for the amazing wizards they were.

“Now, it is my honor to declare that you are bonded for life,” Xenophilius announced, a wide smile stretching his cheeks, “May I present to you, Mister and Missus Nott!” At the end of his statement, a small explosion was heard above them, and everyone looked up to see several Confetti Clouds bursting in the air, showering brightly colored paper bits everywhere.

“Ooooh!” Luna exclaimed, beaming at her new husband, “How lovely!”

“Not as lovely as you, wife,” he said in a low growl as he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. Applause and cheers, and a few wolf whistles filled the air, and when they pulled apart, both were breathless and pink-faced, but grinning like mad.

“Thank you all, so much for being here,” Theo addressed everyone.

“Yes, we hope you know how important each of you are to us, and are so glad you could share this moment with us,” Luna added.

“And now, if you don’t mind, I’m bloody starving,” the groom complained and everyone laughed as they made their way back up the lawn to the back garden, where an abundance of food and drinks awaited and the celebration could continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love weddings just as much as I love holidays and special occasions :) I could not imagine Luna doing anything terribly traditional or trendy, so it was fun to envision what their ceremony might look like. Theo is one of my favorite characters, and this whole story line was really for him - to give him the happily-ever-after I think he deserves after the awful childhood he endured and the lingering effects of carrying his father's name and reputation. As their eclectic circle of friends grows, there will be more moments shared like this one, and the Nott's party will continue in the next chapter!  
> Speaking of chapters, with it being the holidays, I will be taking a break from posting until after the New Year. BUT!!! I will be leaving you with the very next chapter, and the culmination of Luna and Theo's big day RIGHT NOW, so you've got some extra fluff to tide you over :) Wishing all of my wonderful readers a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and best wishes for whatever celebration you might be part of. I hope your 2020 ends on a good note, and that 2021 brings all of us brighter days and calmer seas. <3


	74. Thoughtful Gestures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reception takes place with a few expected traditions, and a surprise for the bride and groom.

Luna and Theo’s wedding reception was wonderful. The food was delicious, and as the evening wore on, everyone was able to relax and fully enjoy the pleasant atmosphere and the company of friends. The bride and groom sat in two chairs, side-by-side at one of the long tables, joined by the rest of their housemates, which made it seem like they were all back in the Room, sharing a meal together. The other ten guests filled the second table, though conversation often flowed from one group to the next.

Though neither of the newlyweds were fussed about traditions, the girls had talked Luna into doing a proper cutting of the cake and a first dance, which she happily agreed to. With the small crowd gathered around, Theo carefully cut into the bottom tier of the masterful confection, and Luna slid the tiny slice out onto a plate. They politely fed each other small bites off silver forks, much to their friends’ consternation, and then strolled across the patio to the makeshift dance floor, where Dean put on a slow song that most in attendance were unfamiliar with.

_“Someday, when I’m awfully low,_

_When the world is cold,_

_I will feel a glow just thinking of you,_

_And the way you look tonight…”_

Hermione let out a small gasp as tears prickled in the corner of her eyes and she pressed her fingers to her lips to stop them from quivering, but of course Draco noticed and draped his arm across her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“This is my parents’ favorite song,” she managed to whisper, images of her mum and dad swaying to this very music in the middle of their living room; of Edward busting out in a loud chorus as he twirled Jeanette around the kitchen. It was a song they’d commonly listened to while they were dating, and had danced to at their own wedding. Hearing it never failed to bring them to mind, and especially now after all they had gone through in recent years, it was even more special to her.

“Wonder how they knew of it,” he jerked his chin towards the couple moving in a small circle, completely lost in their own little world while everyone else looked on.

“I don’t think they did,” she sniffed and gave a watery chuckle, “Dean asked me for suggestions for good wedding songs, and this was at the top of my list. I didn’t really stop to think about what he might use it for, but I’m glad he chose it. It’s a lovely song.”

Hermione leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder and they watched their friends finish their dance in comfortable silence. When it was over, Dean invited everyone out to the floor, and took the volume and the tempo up several notches with one of the songs he’d played on New Year’s Eve.

“Oi, Theo!” Draco hollered as he and Hermione found a spot to join in, “Show us your best moves, mate!”

A wicked smirk flashed across the groom’s handsome face and he immediately set about displaying whatever he remembered from the impromptu lessons Dean had given them all at the start of the year. Luna, of course, joined in, and in no time, everyone was positively in stitches at their very unique renditions of the _Running Man_ and the _Cabbage Patch_.

The party continued long after the sun had set, while champagne continued to flow and multiple slices of cake were devoured. When Arthur and Molly decided to take their leave, and Bill and Fleur said they should go as well and relieve Emilie from babysitting duty, Hermione caught Daphne’s eye and they nodded at one another. Slipping away from the group, they hurried inside where they quickly grabbed Theo’s bag from where he’d left it at the foot of the stairs and rushed up two sets or winding steps to Luna’s room. In record time, they repacked the small duffle with two changes of clothes for both the bride and groom, several items Luna had received from the girls the night before, an unopened bottle of champagne, and a box of chocolate-covered strawberries.

Scurrying back down the stairs, they set the bag down by the door and went in search of the newlyweds, finding them in the middle of an exuberant example of the _Boot Scootin’ Boogie_ with all the rest of the younger crowd. Lingering at the edge of the group, the two witches stomped and clapped along, laughing heartily at the sight of their friends whooping and spinning and two-stepping their way through the chorus. When it was over, Hermione signaled to Dean to turn the volume down a bit and drew everyone’s attention to herself with a loud _“ahem!_ ”

“So, we have a bit of a surprise for Theo and Luna,” she grinned at the young married couple who turned to her with wide eyes and expectant expressions. “We know you’ve put off going on a honeymoon for a bit, but we thought it would still be nice to spend a couple of days somewhere else.”

Daphne nodded and stepped up beside her, “Quite. So for the next two nights you will be enjoying the seaside view from Shell Cottage, thanks to Bill and Fleur.” Small sounds of surprised floated about, but then everyone burst into applause as the bride and groom continued to stand there, stunned.

“Oh, they’ve left already, haven’t they?” Luna asked, looking around for their former professor and his wife.

“They have, but the wards have been set to accept you, and the house has been given a thorough freshening up, courtesy of the Malfoy’s House Elves,” Hermione shot a knowing smile at her boyfriend who was looking right pleased with himself as Theo punched him lightly in the arm.

“So, we think it’s high time for you two to get out of here and let us handle the clean-up,” Daphne waved her hands in a shooing motion.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Theo snarked as he cast a wolfish look at his blushing bride.

Many hugs and thank you’s were given out, quiet words were exchanged between the young couple and Xenophilius, and by the time Mister and Missus Nott were done making the rounds, Daphne was standing by the door with their bag in her hand. Making sure they had their wands with them, and reassuring them that everything would be taken care of, she gently pushed them over the threshold.

“Have a wonderful time and don’t come back until at least noon on Monday!” she hollered after them as they hurried towards the apparition point, grinning madly, hands linked and eyes fixed on each other’s face. When they popped out of sight, Daphne let out a dramatic sigh and marched back out to the garden where everyone else was still mingling.

“They’re off?” Draco asked when he saw her return.

“Yup,” she smiled and then glanced at Hermione, “Fantastic idea, that.”

“How did you two pull that off?” Ron asked from his seat at the table, his arm draped around Pansy’s shoulders, “Nott told us last night they were waiting on a honeymoon till later in the year.”

“Luna told us the same thing,” Hermione shrugged, "but Daphne and I got to talking during dinner and came up with Shell Cottage as a possible spot for them to go.”

“Is that what you two were whispering about at one point?” Ginny piped up, a look of understanding crossing her face.

“Yes,” Daphne giggled, “We were trying to be discreet.”

“Well, it worked,” Padma looked impressed, “I saw you two talking, but didn’t even consider it was something like this. I thought maybe you were ironing out the schedule for today or something.”

“When we finished dinner, before we gave Luna her gifts, I snuck outside and sent a patronus to Bill and Fleur, asking if it would be alright, but I told him not to send word back to me, but to Xeno instead.” Hermione explained with a satisfied expression, “A while later, I happened to go in the kitchen and he found me and said, “ _Bill Weasley asked me to tell you that everything has been arranged._ ” She shrugged, “I confirmed with them once the ceremony was over, and Fleur told me they’d even asked Draco if they could borrow Merry for an hour to make sure the place was clean and ready.”

“Of course, I was glad to send her, and floo-called my mother at once, who was thrilled to help,” Draco interjected. “She sent Merry and two others over there, not just to tidy up, but to stock the pantry and light the candles, and sprinkle rose petals,” he huffed and rolled his eyes, “I’m sure it looks like something right out of those racy Muggle romance novels.”

Everyone chuckled as Harry snarked, “And how exactly would you know about those Muggle novels, Malfoy? Hmmm?”

“I enjoy a good bodice-ripper while soaking in a tub of lavender-scented bubbles,” Draco sniffed in a superior fashion and their laughter grew exponentially at the mental image he’d provided.

“I thought you preferred roses?” Neville teased, a wicked smirk on his friendly face.

“No, you’re confusing me with Weasley,” Draco deadpanned, setting everyone off again while Ron spluttered and gaped and finally came up with a retort of his own.

“How dare you! I do _not_ faff about in rose-scented baths,” he snorted with disgust, “I prefer vanilla, if you must know.” He waggled his eyebrows before cocking one suggestively and turning to Pansy, “Care to join me sometime?” The typically poised witch merely goggled at him for a second, her cheeks pink and eyes wide before she shrugged daintily.

“Perhaps. But only if you say please.”

“Into begging, then, Parkinson?” Harry quipped and Pansy’s cheeks flamed even brighter as howls and catcalls filled the air.

“No, she just knows Ron has the manners of a Mountain Troll,” Ginny chimed in, winking at the dark-haired witch who looked thoroughly relieved by her intervention.

“As enlightening as this all is,” Blaise choked out from his spot next to Padma, his dark eyes filled with mirth, “Shouldn’t we be cleaning up or something?” He glanced about, indicating the plates and food, furniture and decorations that all clearly did not belong permanently in the Lovegood’s backyard. Through the window into the kitchen, they could see Luna’s father puttering around, most likely starting to clear things away himself.

“Yes, we absolutely do need to be getting on with that,” Draco nodded and Hermione slipped out of his embrace to go inside and tell the older man that he did not need to be worrying about any of it and that they would take care of everything. After only a tiny bit of protesting, Xeno acquiesced with an appreciative smile and drifted upstairs with the cup of tea she’d prepared for him.

In short order, the leftover food was put away, the conjured tables and chairs vanished, and everything put back to rights. Harry thought it would be nice to transfigure a few of the dining chairs into wooden loungers to keep on the patio, with a small table between them. The arbor had been moved from its spot by the stream to the edge of the garden where it now stood as an entryway to the low-walled space. The table that had been used for the cake was moved to a corner and three chairs placed around it, with one of the jars of flowers set in the center, and another jar was placed on the kitchen table inside.

Once the downstairs was back to its usual, comfortably chaotic self, the bulk of the party decided it was time to head out; Ron and Pansy, Blaise and Padma, Anthony, and Dean all said their farewells and strolled towards the apparition point together. Neville and Hannah were soon to follow, after Hannah promised to develop the pictures the very next day, and to send a full set to Theo and Luna, another to Xenophilius, and a few to each of the other guests, as well.

Hermione and Ginny went upstairs to put Luna’s bouquet in a vase on her dressing table, vanish the cots, fold all the bedding, and make sure none of the girls had left anything behind. Then, they changed the sheets on the large bed, fluffed up the pillows, and cracked open a window to allow a light breeze to flow through the third-story room. They left the dressing area alone, since neither of them knew what pieces had actually existed somewhere in the house, as opposed to which ones Luna had transfigured or duplicated. They figured Xenophilius could rearrange his printing shop to his liking the next day, although they did cast a quick cleaning charm over the entire space so everything was at least dust-free and orderly.

Back downstairs, they found Harry and Draco chatting with the father of the bride, who had emerged from his room to thank them for all their help, and for joining him in celebrating that day.

“Luna is so very fond of all of you,” he turned to include the two witches in his statement, a kind smile on his face, “I used to worry about her when she was younger; I knew others found her odd and difficult to relate to. But finding you during her Fifth Year was a marvelous thing, and these more recent years have expanded her circle even wider.” He nodded at Draco who returned the gesture.

“We love Luna,” Hermione said simply, knowing it was true for all of them, “And couldn’t be happier for her and Theo. We were honored they asked us to share today with them.” Murmurs of agreement were added by the other three, and Xenophilius beamed at them in turn.

He shook Draco and Harry’s hands, hugged Ginny and Hermione, and walked them part-way down the path towards the apparition point, thanking them repeatedly, and accepting their wishes for a successful and enjoyable journey in the days and weeks to come. Once they reached the boundary of the wards, the foursome paused to say their own goodbyes.

“I’m going to bring Ginny back to the Burrow, and then I’ll be home in a bit,” Harry told Hermione before he addressed Draco, “See you Thursday, and then for the game Saturday, yeah?”

“That’s right!” Draco exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement, “The Semi-Final!”

“Yeah, and it’s Manchester United versus Arsenal, so it’s going to be a good one!” Harry was equally pumped about their upcoming adventure. “I’ll come to Hogwarts around nine and we can set off. The match isn’t till one, but it’ll take us a bit to get there since we can’t apparate anywhere near the stadium. Plus, we can watch the warm-ups and explore the arena a bit.” Though Harry wasn’t anywhere near the level of sports enthusiast that Dean was, he was a rather big fan of Muggle football and was quite certain that introducing Draco to a non-magical event of this size was going to be an experience like no other. He wasn’t sure if he was looking more forward to the game itself, or his former enemy’s reaction to everything around him.

“Can’t wait,” Draco grinned.

The amicable hero hugged his best friend, shook the tall blonde’s hand, and wrapped his arm around Ginny’s waist before disappearing into thin air.

“Wait!” Hermione seemed to realize something, “How are you getting back to Hogwarts? Aren’t you supposed to only travel with Harry?”

Draco grinned as he reached into the pocket of his robes, and pulled out a small, dented tin that mints are often sold in, “He got me a portkey. Convinced Kingsley that it would just be too much back and forth with everyone being out here. I don’t think the Minister cared either way.” He chuckled, “He knows by now that I’m not going to run off to another country, or use whatever limited freedom is granted to start some sort of dark rebellion."

Hermione wound her arms around his waist and smiled up at him, “So what time does this illicit portkey activate?”

“I believe at half-past eleven, and it will bring me directly to the school grounds.”

“That means we’ve still got almost two hours to ourselves then,” she popped up on her toes and kissed him, “Though I’d rather not spend it in Xenophilius’ backyard.” With those whispered words, she tightened her hold on him and spun them away into the ether.

ooOoo

Those hours passed in a haze of passionate kisses, lingering touches, and a bit more freedom with their desires than they’d previously allowed themselves. Perhaps it was the romantic wedding they’d just enjoyed, or the multiple glasses of champagne, or even the fact that they had recently come to a more solid understanding of where the two of them were headed. Whatever the cause, Draco was thrilled beyond words. Thankfully, none were needed.

Of course, they’d still maintained certain boundaries – he wasn’t about to toss all propriety out the window just because he’d declared his intentions – but he didn’t fight so hard against the urge to run his hands over the softest parts of her skin, or pull her impossibly close so there wasn’t even a hint of a centimeter between them. He lost himself in the tiny, breathy sounds she made and the way her fingers and lips left a trail of sparks in their wake. It was heady and overwhelming and utterly glorious, and ramped up his inclination to move things forward with her even more than his confession the weekend before had.

The clock on her desk ticked quietly in the stillness of the room as they lay entwined in one another on her bed. She had dozed off a minute or two before, and he was more than happy to remain in the role of her human pillow for the next twenty-two minutes, until his portkey would activate and he would have to leave.

_What he wouldn’t give to stay._

Over and over, his mind replayed his conversation with Bill last week; the part about marriage and what was truly important. This moment right here was a perfect example of what his mentor had been talking about, and Merlin if he didn’t want it to last forever. The whole time Theo and Luna had been exchanging vows and rings, all he could focus on was the beautiful witch by his side and the fact that one day, the couple standing before everyone, would be them. He’d had a completely barmy urge to ask Xenophilius if he could just repeat the whole thing again once he’d presented the newly married couple, except this time for himself and Hermione, and almost snorted audibly. While his girlfriend might have gone along with it, his mother would flay him alive if he deprived her of at least some semblance of a proper wedding, and even _he_ could recognize the terribly bad form it would be to steal the bride and groom’s spotlight.

But he wanted to. So much, it scared him.

Draco had rarely let his emotions control him during his younger years. As per his father’s instruction, his facial expressions gave nothing away, his reactions to news of any sort or import was minimal, and decisions were made only after viewing a situation from every possible angle and determining which outcome would benefit himself the most. This meant that even at the ripe old age of eleven, even the simple act of choosing a table in the library to study at was weighed and calculated. If he sat too close to the front, he’d be under the beady, watchful eye of Madam Pince the whole time, which irked him. If he sat all the way in the back, he’d be forced to endure unwelcome stares and sneers from the older students who often chose those spots to do things far outside the realm of academics. If he sat in the middle, it was the most convenient for retrieving the texts he might need, but it also put him in close proximity to the largest group of students using the space at any given time, which meant he had to then choose whose nearness to tolerate the most. He often settled on whatever table of Ravenclaws were around, since they were the least likely to bother with anything other than their studies, including inter-house animosity.

Looking back, he could admit now that the whole thing was exhausting and unnecessary. He’d often noticed tables where Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws would intermingle, but never with Slytherins. No, the green and silver clan stuck to themselves unless forced to do otherwise, and that unwritten code was accepted without question by the other houses. It was one of the reasons his inclusion in the Eighth Year house had been such a shock to his system; aside from Theo and Daphne, he’d never intentionally interacted with any of his new dorm-mates (aside from taunting Hermione and bullying Neville, of course). To find them willing to engage him, and then to find himself actually pleased by it, had turned his world upside down.

And now, that world revolved unequivocally around the petite witch in his arms, and he was more content than he’d ever imagined possible. Sometimes he felt as if his heart might jump right out of his chest in its attempt to prove its ardor for her. Other times, he was sure he’d dissolve into a pile of mush when she looked at him a certain way. He had regular bouts of something akin to desperation, in which he wanted so much to cling to her and never be parted from her again for even a second, and it made him feel like he’d completely lost the plot. He couldn’t understand how one person – one brilliant, gorgeous, witty, kind-hearted person – could render him so speechless and breathless and mind-numbingly useless with just her mere presence.

His only saving grace was that he was quite certain the same was true for her.

Now that the issue of Lucius’ will had been dealt with, and the formalities regarding his involvement in the estate were being ironed out, he was granted the luxury of looking ahead to a future with Hermione that really, truly, honest-to-Godric could turn out exactly like he wanted it to. He had a couple of possible ideas for a proposal buzzing around in his brain, and resolved to devote a bit of time in the coming weeks to seriously considering what the best one might be, and how to go about making it happen. Before he could put any sort of plan in motion, however, there were several conversations that needed to take place, the first of which he was determined to have over the Easter holiday.

That settled in his mind, he shifted slightly, his arms still wrapped around Hermione, but the angle better for nuzzling the spot below her ear he knew was particularly sensitive. As soon as he brushed his lips against her jaw she arched against him and hummed, and by the time he’d peppered kisses up her temple and down to the corner of her mouth, her eyes were fluttering open. The look of sleepy adoration on her face made him wonder for a fleeting moment how much trouble Harry would get into if the portkey turned up at Hogwarts without its intended traveler, but he shoved it aside, knowing he’d never misuse the leniency he’d been granted. Instead, he focused all his attention on thoroughly enjoying the last eighteen minutes he had with his favorite witch, who seemed to have the exact same idea as she captured his lips with hers in a kiss that stole his breath once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding #1 for this group of friends is complete :) The song Theo and Luna danced to (The Way You Look Tonight), is an old one, and one of my favorites. It's been performed by several artists, most commonly by Frank Sinatra, and is definitely worth a listen if you're not familiar with it. I think we've got about ten chapters left (I think!!), before we come to the end of this second part of their journey. Chapter 75 will be posted on Monday, January 4th. Until then, I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season! <3


	75. Venturing Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets ready for a day out in the Muggle world with Harry.

_Hello, love._

_How was your day?_

_**A bit crazy, honestly, but it was fine.**_

_What happened?_

_**Well, you know I’ve been working with the Goblin Liaison Office, right?**_

_Yes…_

_**I’ve compiled a list of the most common grievances and concerns presented by the Goblins over the last century, and repeatedly the one that keeps popping up has to do with ownership of Goblin-made items.**_

_They are rather possessive of their trinkets, aren’t they?_

_**That’s an understatement!**_

**_When Griphook helped us break into Gringotts, he demanded the Sword of Godric Gryffindor as payment. He refused to see the sword as belonging to Hogwarts, where Gryffindor had bequeathed it to the school, or to Harry, who the sword presented itself to. He kept insisting it belonged back with the Goblins._ **

_Bill has told me stories about similar arguments._

_He said even if a wizard pays for a Goblin-made item, the Goblins believe that when that person no longer needs it, or when they die, it should be returned to them, and not passed down as an heirloom or gifted to someone else._

_**Exactly. It’s caused a lot of problems between the two groups over the years, so I’ve been trying to come up with some definitive boundaries that can be respected by both sides.**_

_And how’s that going so far?_

_**Well, it was going fine all week – I’ve been meeting with a Goblin named Bogbin every day for a few hours and he’s actually very reasonable.**_

**_But today, he couldn’t meet, so they sent another Goblin named Nargnok. Apparently no one bothered to explain to him what exactly we’d been working on._ **

_Oh, no._

_**Oh, yes. He read over the proposal we’d drafted so far, thinking that was the “outdated” version we were trying to amend, and that the goal was for us to make the Goblins’ claim on valuable items even stronger, not to strike an agreement with Wizardkind about ownership after money had exchanged hands.**_

_Shall I assume he wasn’t pleased?_

_  
**Well, first he started throwing around ideas about proof of creation for every item, and then began listing possible punishments for anyone who didn’t abide by the assumed rules of return.**_

**_I put a stop to it when he mentioned thumb screws and burning shackles._ **

_Are you kidding?_

_**I wish. He was very put out when I finally was able to explain that he was going in the exact opposite direction of what Bogbin and I had been doing. He accused me of bewitching his coworker, and using underhanded means to secure power, and all sorts of awful things.**_

**_I never thought I’d say this, but I’m very thankful Warrington was in his office today. He heard Nargnok yelling at me and came across to see what was going on right about the time the Goblin had climbed up onto his chair, leaned across my desk, and was only an inch or two from my face._ **

**_It wasn’t pleasant._ **

_I imagine not._

_I’m so sorry. Are you alright?_

**_I am._ **

**_He didn’t do anything to me, besides yell, and Warrington grabbed him by the arm and marched him out the door before I could even blink. He came back at once, saying he’d handed the Goblin off to security and that I should contact Gringotts at once to let them know what happened._ **

_And did you?_

_**I did. Though not until after telling Gethsemane.**_

**_I think she also sent an owl._ **

_I might do so, as well._

_Our family has been doing business with them for generations and no Goblin has the right to behave in such a manner to any customer or client or Ministry representative._

_**Oh, please don’t. I don’t want the situation to get any worse.**_

_And especially not towards the Brightest Witch of the Age, War Heroine, and Golden Girl, Hermione Granger! Who does he think he is?_

**_Bogbin already wrote, apologizing profusely and assuring me that Nargnok had been dealt with accordingly (I don’t want to know what that means) and that he would be back to meet with me Monday at our usual time._ **

_Not to mention, my girlfriend, whom I will defend against anyone who dares to disrespect her! This is an outrage._

_**Draco, stop ranting. Honestly, it's really not that big of a deal. I'm fine, it's all fine. It's all been handled.**_

_Well, if you’re sure that’s satisfactory._

_**It is, truly.**_

**_It was really just all a big misunderstanding, and I know Goblins have a deep mistrust towards wizards, some more than others. Nargnok falls in the “more” category, obviously._ **

_I’ll be sending Warrington a fruit basket, at least._

_**You’re ridiculous.**_

_I appreciate him stepping in and keeping the love of my life safe when I wasn’t available._

_**I could have handled it myself, you know.**_

**_I was simply avoiding pulling out my wand for as long as possible._ **

_Yes, I know, Cleverest, Bravest, Smartest Witch in all the World. I am fully aware of your capacity to take care yourself._

_It doesn’t mean I like the idea of you being in harm’s way._

_**I really am perfectly fine. It was just a little unnerving.**_

_Does Warrington like melon? Or pineapple?_

_**What??**_

_Melons. Tropical fruits._

_Do you know if he likes those better than apples and oranges?_

_**You’re really doing this?**_

_Obviously._

**_Well, I have no idea what his fruit preference is._ **

_That’s alright._

_I’ll have an assortment sent over._

_**You’re so dramatic.**_

_I do not take the wellbeing of my future wife lightly._

_**Well, when you put it like that…**_

_See? Not so ridiculous after all._

_**Oh, no, you’re still ridiculous.**_

**_But it’s one of my favorite things about you._ **

_Good to know._

_Want to know one of my favorite things about you?_

_…_

_Hermione?_

_…_

_Where’d you go?_

_**Sorry!**_

**_Harry was tearing the house apart trying to find his jersey for tomorrow._ **

_Couldn’t he just summon it?_

_**He could have if he’d put it in his closet like a normal person, but he’d left it at the Burrow months ago.**_

**_Molly insists that he leave spare clothes and things there, since he goes for days at a time when Ginny’s home. Apparently that was one of the items he’d left._ **

_I’m assuming he’s found it now?_

_**Yes. All set!**_

**_He wants me to remind you to wear yours with the denims he gave you._ **

_Why can’t I just wear my cackies?_

_**They’re ‘khakis,’ love, and this is a sporting match, not a business meeting.**_

_The khakis are casual!_

_**Draco, there are going to be men there without shirts on at all.**_

**_I don’t think you realize how beyond casual the whole thing is._ **

_Fine._

_I’ll wear the bloody denims._

_**And a pair of trainers.**_

_I don’t have a pair of trainers!_

_**Still? After all this time, you still don’t have a pair?**_

**_Guess what you’re getting for your birthday, Mr. Posh._ **

_I’ve never had a need for a pair!_

_It’s not like Hogwarts has gum classes or jem classes or whatever Potter rambles about._

_**Gym classes. Physical Education.**_

_Yes, precisely._

_**Just transfigure a pair of your loafers then. You know what Harry’s trainers look like.**_

_Unfortunately, yes, I do._

_**Oh, stop it.**_

**_Don’t make me regret getting you tickets to this._ **

**_I think you’re really going to like it._ **

_I’m sure I will, love._

_It was very thoughtful of you._

_**Yes, well, I try.**_

_I’ll express my appreciation for your thoughtfulness when I see you over the Easter hols._

_**I look forward to it.**_

**_I need to go – I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open._ **

_I didn’t realize how late it was! I should get some sleep, too._

_Potter said he’d be here around 9._

_**Have a great time tomorrow! I can’t wait to hear all about it!**_

_I’m sure I will._

_Goodnight, Hermione._

_I love you._

_**I love you, too, Draco.**_

**_Xoxoxo_ **

****

ooOoo

As promised, Harry knocked on Draco’s door at precisely two minutes past nine the next morning, and was greeted by a rather frazzled looking Flying Instructor.

“Morning, Malfoy!” he crowed cheerfully. “Alright there?” His green eyes raked over his friend, finding his hair ruffled, his cheeks pink, and his eyes a little wild.

“Yeah, yeah, I just…” Draco stood back, granting Harry access to his chambers with a sigh and as the dark-haired man stepped into the space, he found the source of his host’s frustration on the coffee table.

There, on the shiny wooden surface, sat six shoes. While they were placed in pairs, each one was different and clearly did not match the one beside it. They were all odd mash-ups of dress shoes and trainers, and Harry wasn’t entirely sure what exactly they were supposed to look like.

“Ummm….” he began, unsure of how to pose a question that would sound completely offensive towards Draco’s magical ability.

“Yes, yes, they’re quite awful, I know,” Draco waved a frustrated hand towards his shoe collection. “I’ve been trying to transfigure myself a pair of trainers for the last half hour and as you can see…”

Harry tried, he really did, but the longer he looked at the combination of footwear, the harder it was not to laugh. When his gaze settled on one that had clearly been a shiny, black wingtip, but was now an odd shade of grey with a pointy toe and black, rubber sole, he lost it. His hearty guffaw caused Draco to snigger along, reluctant as he might have been.

“Need some help, mate?” Harry finally managed, moving towards the table and pulling his wand out.

“Please,” Draco huffed, dragging a hand over his face.

“Do you want something like mine?” Harry asked, waving his wand over the first mismatched pair, turning them into a pair of black, indoor football shoes that had three white stripes on each side. “Or just a basic athletic shoe?” another wave and the second pair became something white with a curved black line on each side, and black accents on the top, toe, and heel. “Or something more casual?” a third wave turned the last pair into black, canvas ones with a white sole, and the sides were higher, clearly reaching ankle height.

“I have no idea,” Draco admitted.

“Well, seeing as we’re going to a football game, those would make the most sense,” Harry pointed to the first pair, which were identical to the ones on his own feet, “But the Nikes and Converse are equally common. Maybe try them on and see what’s comfortable? We’re going to do quite a bit of walking.”

Draco complied and set about trying on each pair, walking around his quarters for a solid minute every time he changed, and inspecting their appearance in his mirror. Finally, he decided that for the events of the day, he’d go with the football trainers, loathe as he was to actually match his companion. It was nothing against Harry, just the idea of wearing something exactly like the person he’d be sitting next to went against every fashionable fiber of his being. They were comfortable, though, which he was surprised by, and looked fine with the rest of his purely Muggle outfit.

He turned the Converse back to the brown loafers they’d originally been, but decided to keep the Nikes around. They’d also been very comfortable, and he’d seen Dean wearing a pair before, so he knew people did actually go about in them. Giving himself a final once-over in the mirror, he huffed a wry laugh. He hardly looked like himself, with his red team jersey, his Muggle denims (which fit rather well, not that he’d ever tell Potter that), and his new footwear. He wished he had a camera to show Hermione, and was about to voice that thought to Harry when he stepped back out in the sitting area and found the Boy Wonder holding an odd little box in his hands.

“I picked up a disposable camera for the day,” he grinned.

“Of course you did,” Draco snorted with mild amusement and allowed Harry to snap a picture of him in his completely out-of-the-norm outfit, unable to hide the smile that spread across his face.

“Well, let’s go then!” Harry announced, tucking the small camera in his pocket and gesturing towards the door. “Got the tickets?” he stopped abruptly and turned to peer at his companion.

“Yes, Mother,” grey eyes rolled in mock annoyance.

“Just checking.”

They made their way to the Headmistress’ office, which was surprisingly empty, seeing as it was a Saturday morning, but Draco guessed the stern witch was either still at breakfast, or was already off on another task somewhere else in the enormous castle. Without hesitation, they stepped through the floo, emerging in the Auror office a handful of seconds later. Again, there was no one around as they wove their way through the bullpen of desks, down the hall, into a lift that took them to an atrium, which they then exited out into Muggle London.

“How exactly are we getting there?” Draco asked as Harry set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. “You mentioned we couldn’t Apparate directly to the stadium.”

“Right. We could Apparate to a spot about two miles out and walk the rest of the way, but if we take the tube, we’ll get off much closer to it.”

“The… the tube?”

“Underground train,” Harry grinned widely and a little wickedly as he offered this bit of information.

“We’re taking Muggle transportation?” Draco halted abruptly in the middle of the bustling walkway, almost causing the person behind him to bump into him. Instead, the older man merely scowled at the tall blonde and strode around him, muttering something obviously unpleasant.

“Yup,” Harry’s glee was on full display now and he cocked his head in the direction they were headed, “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Resuming their stride, Draco’s mind whirred with all sorts of questions and imaginings regarding this bit of news. He wasn’t afraid of Muggle transport… he just had no idea what to expect. He knew Muggles had trains similar to the Hogwarts Express, but that was about the extent of his experience with anything even remotely resembling non-magical travel. Inhaling sharply, he decided he was going to let go of any preconceived notions or assumed ideas and fully embrace whatever experiences might come his way that day. After all, if he was going to spend his life with Hermione, he needed to be familiar with, and at least basically knowledgeable about, the basic aspects of her world. 

“Lead on, Potter,” he nodded firmly, smirking at his eager tour guide as they continued to head towards the station.

ooOoo

The London Underground was horrifying and exhilarating in equal measure, and Draco hadn’t been able to school his facial features into anything less obvious than wide-eyed intrigue. The speed of the train, the sheer number of people on the platform and inside the metal tube, the wide variety of clothing styles, languages, and moods of the passengers – he found all of it fascinating. He’d been more afraid than he’d ever admit when boarding the train, holding his breath as he stepped over the gap between the cement platform and the threshold, while also trying to go fast enough as to avoid being squashed between the quickly-closing doors. Upon boarding, he was claustrophobically close to the people around him, but as they moved further away from their starting point, the crowd thinned and he and Harry were actually able to find seats to themselves. He couldn’t understand a word the invisible voice boomed from somewhere overhead at random intervals, but the syllables seemed to mean something to everyone else as they got on and off. Several times his brain conjured a question or observation and he turned to his former nemesis to express it, but was consistently sidetracked by another sight or sound or interaction nearby. Harry merely sat back with a knowing smirk and enjoyed the parade of emotions flitting across his usually-stoic friend’s face. It was like watching a child enter a toy store, or view fireworks for the first time; awe and confusion and excitement and even a tiny bit of apprehension dawned in repeated succession as their journey continued.

Upon reaching their designated stop, they exited the train and followed the batch of passengers who’d also disembarked down the platform, up the stairs, and back out into the fresh air and bright sunlight that greeted them. Draco hadn’t realized how stagnant and unpleasant being underground had actually been until he was able to inhale a deep breath that didn’t consist of harsh metal, musty, dank tunnels, or pressing crowds. The scenery around them was quite different from where they’d started, and Harry paused a moment to let him take in his new surroundings.

They’d gotten on the train at the Marylebone stop, near Regent’s Park, which had been bustling with people, but mostly those out and about on Saturday errands, or headed to the gardens to enjoy the day. The tube stop near Wembley Stadium was located in a more industrial or urban area of the city, and as soon as they reached ground level, Draco could see a swarm of people all headed in the same direction. The gigantic steel and glass structure was impressive in its own right: he’d never seen anything like it before and knew he looked like a gormless loon as he stood there staring at it. He’d never seen a building made out of anything other than stone, brick, or wood. This behemoth was sleek and intimidating, yet architecturally pleasing, and rather blinding as the sun glinted off its reflective surface in all directions.

“Got the tickets?” Harry joked, pulling him from his awed perusal of the building.

Instead of answering, Draco dug into his pocket and pulled them out, extending them to his companion, who plucked one for himself and cocked his head towards the arena.

“Come on, then,” he grinned.

Following wordlessly, Draco tried and failed to categorize everything he saw, from the hundreds of people milling about, to the vendors set up outside the stadium, to the enormous buses carrying loads of fans, to the sounds already erupting from within the circular space. He was ridiculously pleased to note that many others were dressed exactly like him – a bright colored team jersey with a player’s name on the back, denims or something that looked similar to the trousers he wore as part of his Quidditch kit, and trainers. He allowed himself a moment of smug satisfaction, knowing he blended in quite well and that no one around them would even remotely suspect that he was a wizard. His pride was bolstered further when a group of five or six similar-age blokes went charging past him wearing nothing but shiny, red shorts, their bodies covered entirely in matching red paint, and each sporting absurd looking hairstyles, also in crimson. They had letters or numbers painted on their torsos (they ran by so fast he couldn’t figure out exactly what was on there), and were bellowing what must have been some sort of team chant or song.

Harry glanced at him, sniggering quietly and Draco sniffed with great superiority, “I appreciate you not expecting me to turn out like that.”

The dark-haired wizard laughed loudly, “Don’t worry, I’m not enough of a fanatic to slap paint all over myself and run around half-starkers.”

“One of the few things I can now say you have running in your favor,” Draco quipped.

Harry waved a hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah. You know your insults have far less weight now than they used to, seeing as I’ve watched you freak out about your relationship with Hermione, and you helped me plan out Ginny’s proposal, and we…”

“Alright, fine,” grey eyes rolled with impressive theatrics, “I can admit you are much more tolerable than you used to be. I might even go so far as to say I enjoy your company as long as I have a few days in between interactions.” Draco knocked Harry with his elbow as they continued to stride towards the stadium.

“I feel so special,” the Chosen One snarked, knowing full well that it was all bollocks. Contrary to anyone’s expectations or assumptions, he and his court-appointed charge were better friends nowadays than he’d been with most of his Gryffindor housemates. While Ron and Hermione were still his best mates, he could honestly say Draco ranked right up there with George and Neville, which brought his brain to a screeching halt as an idea came to him.

“Speaking of feeling special,” Harry changed tack without preamble, “Ginny and I are thinking January or February for the wedding. That's the Harpy’s slowest time of year, and we want to be able to take a honeymoon and all that.”

“Makes sense,” Draco shrugged as they queued up to enter the arena.

“You’ll stand up with me, yeah?” Harry asked, green eyes pinned on the pale young man in earnest.

Unable to process exactly what that meant, Draco simply cocked his head and stared at Harry, bemused.

“Ron’ll be Best Man, but I’d like you to be a groomsman with Neville and George, if that’s okay?”

Draco was stunned. Completely gobsmacked. His jaw dropped and his eyes bugged as he comprehended Harry’s words.

_Harry Potter wanted him as a member of his wedding party._

The irony was not lost on him, but it was vastly overshadowed by a wave of humbling appreciation for the gesture and it took him a beat or two to formulate anything that might convey the depths of his gratitude.

“I… Potter, that’s… You really…” He started and stopped and fumbled ineloquently before finally just huffing a breath and grinning, “I’d be honored.” He held out his hand and Harry shook it, beaming and nodding.

“Brilliant. Thanks, mate.”

“No, thank _you_. Not just for asking, but for bringing me today, and,” he waved a hand absently around him, “for everything over the last almost-two-years now.” He shrugged, his expression sheepish, “I know I owe you more than I can ever repay for helping me get my life back.”

“Oh, don’t get all sappy on me now,” Harry teased, “After the Battle, I was doing my job; doing what any decent human being would do for another. But, y’know, you kind of grew on me a bit after a while.” He smirked and Draco rolled his eyes and let out a dry chuckle.

“Well, then I’ll be forever in your debt for your persistent need to be _decent_.”

“Just take care of my best friend, and we’ll call it even,” Harry snickered, punching him lightly in the arm.

“I plan to,” Draco couldn’t stop the genuine smile that split his face, his heart warming at the thought of his favorite witch and he wondered, “She’ll be in the wedding, too?”

“Oh, absolutely. She’s Ginny’s Maid of Honor. Luna, Fleur, and Angelina are the Bridesmaids.”

“Are George and Angelina…” Draco let the question in his tone float out there and Harry shrugged.

“We think they’ll eventually get married, but they aren’t in any rush. I know they’re both still very much dealing with Fred’s loss, and even though that’s brought them together, they want to make sure that’s not all they have between them.”

Draco hummed in understanding, thinking the couple was smart to consider that, but his musings were brought to an abrupt halt as they approached an odd, metal contraption outside the doors to the stadium.

“Watch me, yeah?” Harry muttered, then stepped forward, fed his ticket into a tiny slot, pushed the shiny spokes forward so he could get through, and then collected his ticket on the other side.

Draco pushed down a spike of nervousness and followed suit, ridiculously pleased with himself when he managed it without a hiccup and allowed a self-satisfied smirk to cross his features as Harry rolled his eyes in amusement. His expression quickly turned to one of awed wonder as he took in the main concourse they’d just entered. People were everywhere – hundreds of them, probably thousands – and there were stairs up and down, numbers on pillars, signs with images he had no idea what they meant, and giant banners hanging from the rafters. The noise was muffled by the size of the crowd, but deafening all the same as a constant buzzing stream of talking and music and announcements collided with one another.

Grey eyes sought green and identical grins flashed across both young men’s faces as they set off to find their seats and enjoy the match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, my wonderful readers!!! I hope each and every one of you had a chance to relax and catch your breath, and had something to celebrate as we started this new year. Hopefully better days are on the horizon for everyone very, very soon!  
> Have I mentioned before how much I love Harry? Because I do. My version of him is very down-to-earth, friendly, thoughtful, and just generally sweet, and his friendship with Draco is a major factor in the changes my favorite Pureblood has made in his life throughout these stories. They are just precious :) As always, thank you so much for reading and keeping me company down this never-ending rabbit hole! <3


	76. Ball In Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry thoroughly enjoy themselves at the football game, and tell Hermione all about it.

Just as Harry had said, they’d arrived at Wembley with plenty of time to scout out their seats and then wander down closer to the pitch to watch the warm-ups for both teams. The tickets they had were excellent – Section 121, which was just shy of the exact middle, and in the lowest grouping of stands. From their vantage point, they had an excellent view of the entire field and both goals. Draco had been fascinated by the drills the teams did as part of their practice and peppered Harry with questions about the rules of the game as they walked an entire circuit around the perimeter of the enormous green.

At one point, the Manchester United team was heading back to the locker room just as the two wizards were nearing the tunnel entrance, and a few of the players stopped to give autographs to the small crowd gathered around. Harry whipped out the brochure he’d grabbed when they’d first gotten there (a combination of game dates, locations, team standings, and star player statistics), and a marker, and leaned over the edge of the stands. Two of the players closest to him took the Sharpie and scribbled their names, smiling up at them and thanking them for coming to the match.

“There you go,” Harry handed the flyer back to Draco, “That’s Giggs and Blomqvist, two of the top players in the sport. Edward’ll be jealous.”

“Thanks,” Draco said as he studied the writing on the brightly-colored page. He knew fans often asked Quidditch players to sign things, and had seen several of his classmates attempt autographs from the Weird Sisters during the Yule Ball, but it was interesting to know that Muggles did the same thing with their celebrities.

“We should grab something to eat and then settle in for the match,” Harry announced and Draco was more than happy to comply. The tea and crumpets he’d scarfed down that morning before his abysmal attempt at transfiguring his shoes was long gone and he was definitely ready for lunch. They headed back up the stands and into a different section of the concourse than they’d arrived in, but it all looked exactly the same, and every so often there was a break in the grey concrete walls indicating a concession stand. Harry steered them towards the first one they came across and they got in yet another line, though this one was substantially shorter than the one to enter the arena.

“They’ve all got pretty much the same stuff, but if you really don’t want anything here, we can try to see what else there is,” the dark-haired hero offered as Draco took in the menu posted above the frantically-working staff behind the counter. He recognized “ _nachos_ ” and “ _pizza_ ,” but that was about it. He’d never had a “ _burger_ ,” and wasn’t exactly sure what “ _Southern Coated Chicken_ ” was, though he had tried chips before and was happy to see those came with just about everything listed. He was torn between the loaded nachos, since he really had enjoyed those at Theo’s, and what was advertised as “Britain’s Best Sausage,” when Harry interrupted his thoughts.

“I’m getting a burger, as they’re usually a safe bet at places like this,” he jerked his head towards the counter. “The nachos won’t be anywhere near as good as Mestizo’s, and the pizza is rubbish.”

“What’s the chicken?” Draco asked as he watched a customer walk away with a basket of lumpy brown things next to a pile of chips.

“It’s fried, but not like how we have fish. More coating on the outside, and it’s crispier. You’d probably like it, and you can get different sauces to dip it in.”

Draco watched two more people wander off with chicken, and another two with burgers that also looked rather appetizing. He was torn, having nothing to compare either with and unsure which would be better.

Harry seemed to sense his inner dilemma, and made a suggestion, “I’ll get the burger and you get the chicken and we can share, how’s that?”

“Share?” the tall blonde arched a supercilious brow, “Do you honestly think I’ve ever _shared_ my lunch with anyone before?”

“Well, it’ll be a first then, along with the rest of today,” quipped Harry and before Draco could come up with a snappy retort, they were up next to order, and his annoyingly affable companion did exactly as he’d proposed. After paying, which Draco was embarrassed to admit was another mind-boggling thing to witness, what with the card and the machine and the signing of a slip of paper, they scooted down towards the end of the counter where food was handed over.

“I didn’t even think to get Muggle money,” he admitted in a low voice so no one would overhear him.

“How could you have? We’d have needed to set up a time for me to take you to Gringotts and all. Too much hassle. You can get me a box of those caramel creams from Hogsmeade and we’ll call it even.”

“Done,” Draco nodded firmly as the girl behind the counter slid a tray with two red, plastic baskets on it, and two large cups with lids and skinny tubes sticking out of the top.

“Can we get some sauces?” Harry asked, and the server nodded, reaching below the counter and plopping an assortment of packets on the tray with a small smile. He thanked her and turned to his friend, who was eyeing the tray with undisguised skepticism. “What?”

“What are those,” Draco pointed to the straws, “and why do they look like probity-probes?”

Harry laughed outright, “They’re drinking straws. Merlin, I keep forgetting how isolated the magical world really is. Here, grab some napkins.” He nodded towards an odd looking dispenser with paper sticking out of the bottom of it. Draco tentatively tugged at it, and out it popped, leaving another one in its wake. He had a little too much fun grabbing almost a dozen of them before Harry cleared his throat loudly and cocked his head towards the concourse.

“We should get back to our seats. It’s only about fifteen minutes to kick-off.”

Settling back in, there were a lot more people around them than before, which forced both wizards to be very careful about what words they used in conversation. A rather awkward exchange took place when Draco tried to decide which drink he wanted – Harry had gotten a Coca-Cola and a Sprite, neither of which had ever been sampled by the Pureblood before, and he went back and forth between the two for several minutes while exclaiming loudly about how fizzy they were. At one point, the lady in front of them turned around to give him a kind smile.

“You just enjoy them both, dearie,” she said in a deliberately slow and even tone, and Harry realized she probably thought Draco was mentally sub-par, which caused him to snort with laughter and inhale a half-chewed chip, leading to a coughing fit that left him gasping for breath and grabbing for whichever soda Draco had currently let go of.

Draco, on the other hand, beamed at the woman, completely oblivious to anything other than her supportive statement, and nodded quite happily while munching on a bite of chicken, a tiny blob of barbeque sauce stuck on the corner of his mouth.

As Harry had suggested, they shared their lunches and Draco decided that while both were very enjoyable, he wanted to try burgers again in a place that specialized in them. The one they had ordered came with the standard toppings of cheese, lettuce, tomato, and ketchup, but he saw a handful of people returning to their seats with what looked like bacon, or onions, or different kinds of cheeses on theirs. He also determined that ketchup was best on fries, but that he liked both barbeque sauce and ranch dressing on his chicken.

Just as they were finishing up the last of their chips, the teams appeared on the pitch and the players were announced over the loudspeakers. Harry rattled off details and explanations he felt might be pertinent, then the match began and conversation was limited for the first half, due to both blokes being entirely enthralled with the action down on the pitch. At halftime, they opted to find the restroom (which was an experience in and of itself) and picked up more drinks and large pretzel because Draco had seen a child walk by with one and immediately wanted to try it.

“I’ll buy you two boxes of caramel creams and a tin of bonbons,” the usually calm and collected young man insisted, anticipation gleaming in his eyes as he watched the server behind the counter reach into the glass box and get his desired snack.

“Yes, yes, at this rate you’re going to owe me a bottle of Ogden’s finest, too,” Harry teased, not minding the purchases in the slightest. This time, they ordered an Orange Fanta and a Barq’s Rootbeer to try out, and as they shuffled back to their seats, the same lady flashed a knowing smile at Draco again, sending Harry into another fit of sniggers, though this time without the choking.

The second half was equally exciting as the first, and since he now had a bit of handle on it, Draco was able to ask a few questions about different plays and calls. He’d read the book Hermione had given him at Christmas, twice, actually, but to see it in action was entirely different. He was especially interested in the yellow and red cards, since fouls were rarely called in Quidditch, and there was almost no such thing as a penalty. He could also readily admit that the level of skill displayed by the teams was impressive, and understood very quickly why Beckham was such a popular player. He looked forward to talking with Edward about the game when they visited over the Easter holiday.

When it was all officially over, and Manchester was victorious, the crowds began to herd towards the exits, but Draco and Harry hung back a little, not in any real rush and not particularly fond of being shunted along with the pack of spectators. The same rowdy bunch of red-painted blokes were obviously thrilled their team had won and were singing even more loudly, and much more drunkenly, than before. The two wizards glanced at each other and chortled at the spectacle as they slowly climbed the stairs towards the concourse.

Once they finally reached the exits and emerged from the stadium, Harry posed a question, “Would you prefer to walk to the Apparition point, or take the tube again?”

Draco thought for a moment, “I honestly think I’d rather walk a bit. My legs could use the stretch.”

“Too right,” Harry agreed, “Stadium seats aren’t made for comfort, that’s for sure.”

They ambled off in the direction of their destination, the throng slowly thinning the further away they got. As they walked, Harry had a random question.

“Has Pansy said anything to you about Ron?”

Surprised, he shook his head, “No, nothing. Then again, last weekend was the first time I’d seen her since New Year’s Eve at your place. They seem like they’re moving along.” He recalled the way Weasley had pulled out Pansy’s chair as they sat for dinner, how he always seemed to have his arm around her or his hand in hers, and how every time Draco happened to look his way, Ron’s eyes were firmly fixed on the dark-haired witch. He didn’t know much about love or relationships or what have you, but the red-head looked quite smitten in his opinion. For Pansy’s part, the way she tucked herself into his arms as they danced to the slower songs, and the unusual number of times she smiled left Draco with the distinct impression she was just as infatuated.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Harry nodded. “Ron is completely gone over her, and he thinks she feels the same, but apparently she’s not as forthcoming with her feelings.”

Draco snorted, “I’d say not. For all the years I’ve known Pansy, she’s had three moods: annoyed, offended, and pouting. Everything was always filtered through the lens of what met her expectations, or didn’t, and what helped get her whatever it was she wanted, or didn’t.” He paused and considered his next words carefully, knowing Harry already knew everything about him and had seen him at his absolute worst, but it was different when he was sharing something personal about one of his friends.

“Pansy was raised like the rest of my friends, but being a witch meant she had fewer choices and a longer list of rules and stipulations our society expected her to follow. She’s always been a bit of a control freak because she knows her life and her future are really not hers to command, so she manages what she can – her appearance, her emotions, her friends – with a stranglehold. Being with Weasley seems to have loosened her up a bit in that regard.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, “Ginny told me she apologized to her and Hermione at Luna’s, for everything that happened at school and…” his words faded and he cleared his throat with obvious embarrassment.

“For trying to hand you over to Voldemort?” Draco finished for him, and exasperated tone to his statement. Even after all this time, the Great Bespectacled One still had trouble stating facts that might make others uncomfortable. He knew exactly what his former housemate had done, and even understood why in that moment she had chosen to do so. He wouldn’t have made the same choice, but that was most likely because he’d witnessed the horror of what that psychopath’s reign looked like first hand, and had no desire to let him win by the time they’d reached that point.

“Yeah, well,” Harry cleared his throat, “all of that, and apparently she was rather shocked when they forgave her and then immediately acted like they’d all just always been friends.”

“Bloody Gryffindors,” Draco snarked, “The Sorting Hat should have changed _“daring, nerve, and chivalry,”_ to _“forgiveness, blunt honesty, and hugging”_ if it really wanted to be accurate.”

Harry let out a loud guffaw, “Yeah, well then Slytherin’s song should have had something about “ _self-preservation_ ,” and “ _emotional constipation_ ” in it.”

The Malfoy heir couldn’t even be offended by the retort because it was utterly true, so he settled for a low, rumbling laugh and a shake of his head.

“Well, it seems none of those supposed characterizations mattered in the end. I mean, look at all of us now,” he shrugged and his companion nodded in understanding.

“Too right. Who’d have ever pictured Nott and Luna together? Or Ron and Pansy? Or even you and Hermione? Maybe especially you two, seeing as you had probably the most volatile history out of all the inter-house couples in our age group.”

“I know,” Draco agreed, “Hermione and I have talked before about how we’re not glad – not in the slightest – that the war happened or that we lost all those people, but the chances and the changes the aftermath brought? I’ll never stop being thankful for that.”

“I get it,” Harry nodded, “Really. I do. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that the two-year anniversary is coming up next month. It doesn’t seem possible that so much time has passed, and yet it also seems like it was a whole other lifetime ago.” He carded his fingers through his always-messy hair, “That probably sounds mental.”

“No, it’s true. I can still remember my hearing like it was yesterday, but at the same time it seems eons have passed. Nothing is the same… I’m not the same,” he admitted, his brow furrowed as he stared at the ground while they walked.

“And we are all extremely thankful for that,” Harry nudged him with his elbow, adding some levity to what could become a much more serious conversation than he felt the day called for.

Draco huffed and smirked, pulling his thoughts away from the morose path they’d started to follow. For the rest of the walk, they discussed the match, the techniques the players used, the amusing array of fans they’d encountered, and their personal soda preferences. Harry was a Coke man through-and-through, but Draco had decided the Orange Fanta was far superior and was rendered speechless when his unlikely friend informed him that it came in other flavors as well, such as strawberry, grape, and pineapple.

“Potter, you have to find me some of that for our next Game Night. They’ll go nuts over it!”

Harry laughed and promised to do his best as they approached the Apparition point, and in the blink of an eye they vanished with a telling _crack_.

ooOoo

_Hey, Love!_

_I’m back!_

_**How was it? Did you have fun?**_

_It was amazing._

_I had a fantastic time. Don’t tell Potter._

_I don’t even know where to start…_

_**The beginning would be good.**_

_Ha-ha._

_Fine._

_We took the tube to get to the stadium – not sure I need to experience that again._

_But it was very interesting. I have no idea how all those people know where to get on and off and how they don’t miss their stop. It was rather overwhelming, if I’m being honest._

_**Oh, my.**_

**_I thought you were apparating there?_ **

_That was the original plan, but Potter decided to broaden my horizons, I guess._

_**Why am I not surprised.**_

_Anyway, when we got there, a large crowd was already there, people waiting to get in._

_The stadium is massive. I mean, HUGE. I’ve never seen anything like it! Again, I don’t know how people don’t regularly get lost in it. Everything looks the same except the numbers by the stairs._

_**Were the seats alright? My dad said they were good ones.**_

_They were perfect, love. Thank you!_

_We got to watch the teams warm up, and I even got a couple of autographs. I’ll have to show them to your father._

_The match was fantastic. I read the book you got me, but it’s a whole other thing to see it in person. Potter had to explain a bunch of bits to me, but I followed along alright._

_**I’m so glad! I thought you’d enjoy it, and now you have something else to chat with Harry and my dad about.**_

_He took a bunch of photos – got one of those tossable cameras. I think you’ll be surprised at how closely I can pass for a Muggle._

_I’m pretty sure no one suspected for even a second that I wasn’t familiar with my surroundings._

_**Harry just got home – said it was brilliant and that I should ask you about the food.**_

_Oh! The food!_

_I tried a burger for the first time, and fried chicken. Both were good, but I liked the burger better. And chips, of course. Do you realize how much ketchup Muggles use? People put it on everything!_

_**Ha-ha! Yes, they certainly do.**_

**_I’m very proud of you for trying new things. I’ll happily take you for burgers – that’s one of my favorite things to eat when I’m out._ **

**_Harry is now apologizing for introducing you to soda, and says he’s probably added to your sugar addiction._ **

_Soda is amazing, Hermione._

_There was this orange one, and Potter says it comes in other flavors, too. I need to try the strawberry. The others were good, too – rootbeer, Sprite, and Coke – but the orange was my favorite._

_**There’s a Peach Fanta that I like, but I haven’t had it in ages. I forgot all about it.**_

**_They’re all quite fizzy, aren’t they?_ **

_Yes! I don’t know how they do it – if you don’t use the straw-thingy, the bubbles get all over your face._

_Wait – did Potter tell you to say that?_

_…_

_You’re both laughing at me now, aren’t you?_

_…_

_**I’m sorry, Draco.**_

**_Yes, Harry did tell me to say that – he was telling me about your fascination with carbonated drinks and how the lady in front of you probably thought you were a bit slow._ **

_What?_

_She did not!_

_**I don’t think many people get that excited about soda.**_

_She was just a very nice person._

_…_

_**Draco?**_

**_Where’d you go?_ **

_She spoke very slowly to me._

_Gave me an overly friendly smile the second time._

_Oh, for Merlin’s sake._

_**Hahahahahahahahahaha!**_

**_I can’t…_ **

**_Harry is on the floor._ **

_I’m so glad my introduction to the Muggle world is so entertaining to you both._

_**Oh, love, you know we’re not making fun of you.**_

**_It’s just too funny._ **

_I’m entirely mortified._

_**Don’t worry about it.**_

**_It’s not like you’re ever going to see her again._ **

**_And I think it’s wonderful that you fully embraced all the new things you tried today. I’m looking forward to introducing you to lots more out there!_ **

_Yes, well…_

_I’ll have to reign in my enthusiasm, I suppose._

_**Maybe just a tad.**_

**_But only when you’re out in public._ **

**_You can be as enthusiastic as you want when it’s just us._ **

_Good to know._

_**I love you, Draco Malfoy.**_

**_More than you can possibly imagine._ **

_I love you, too, you cheeky witch._

_Thank you, again, for the tickets. It was truly incredible._

_**You’re welcome!**_

**_Tell me more about it – Harry’s gone back downstairs so no more interruptions._ **

_Okay._

_Have you ever had a soft pretzel before? They’re delicious!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I would like to start by saying I know absolutely nothing about soccer, nor have I ever been to Wembley stadium, so please forgive my preconceived notions about either :) Second, this was just a massive fluff fest for Harry and Draco, and the whole scene with Draco and the soda just makes me laugh. True to his transformation since being released from Azkaban, he's continued to embrace new encounters and experiences without the burden of his father's expectations, and I have to believe he'd be completely enthralled with the concession stands and snack options.   
> Thank you so much for reading - I appreciate all of you more than you know! I posted a new o/s earlier this week entitled "Once Upon a December," and would love for you to hop over there and take a look if you've got time. <3


	77. Manor of Speaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Easter Holidays begin, and the Grangers return to the Malfoy estate where Draco has an important conversation with Edward.

After his foray into the non-magical world, Draco found himself comparing certain things at Hogwarts to their Muggle counterpart. Granted, his one day at the stadium gave him minimal exposure, but there were definitely still observations to be made. For example, he wore his newly-transfigured Nikes to the Quidditch practices the day after and was extremely pleased with how comfortable they were, and how running after the players was much easier than in his usual loafers. He decided he’d wear them for all practices, scrimmages, and matches from then on.

He noticed that absolutely nothing served in the Great Hall, at any meal for the next four days was fried. Not until lunchtime on Thursday, when a platter of fish and chips appeared in the center of the table, did that pattern break. Also, there was no ketchup to be found anywhere, and he was mildly disappointed because he thought it would be quite good on his roasted potatoes and to dip his sausages in.

He liked the whole cups-with-lids thing. Students were not allowed to bring food or drinks into the classrooms, but teachers were permitted to have water or tea on hand since they often didn’t leave their room for multiple lessons at a time. It always unnerved him to have a steaming cup of tea sitting on the desk, for fear of spilling it on any of the papers nearby, or having a student accidentally knock into it and send it crashing to the floor. The goblets they used for water weren’t exactly convenient, either. Big, heavy, bronze or pewter things that took up more space than necessary. No, the idea of a lighter, simpler cup with a cover definitely had merit.

Thursday afternoon brought Harry back to the castle for their weekly meeting, and upon entering Draco’s apartment, he handed him a thick envelope.

“Photos from the match,” the green-eyed wizard grinned.

“Great!” Draco took them eagerly and slid the pile of two-dozen prints from their paper container. He flipped through them, his smile growing as he took in the stadium from several different angles, the game in action down on the pitch, and several of himself, or Harry, or the two of them together. He laughed outright at one of himself holding half of a burger in one hand, and a drink in the other, a satisfied smirk on his face. They’d asked another fan to take a picture of the two of them with the pitch behind them, and it had turned out nicely. He stared at it for a moment – Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, arms flung over each other’s shoulders, wearing matching jerseys and denims (and trainers, though you couldn’t see those), grinning madly.

“I expect you to enlarge that one and frame it, and put it somewhere prominent,” Harry sniffed affectedly and Draco snorted.

“It really is a good one, though,” he glanced up and met his former enemy’s eyes.

“Proof that things can change, yeah?” Harry smirked.

The tall blonde nodded and flipped through the images again, more quickly this time, clearly looking for something.

“Where’s the one you took of me here, before we left?”

“Oh, Hermione stole it,” Harry shrugged.

“Really?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, I was going to give it to her anyway, just to prove I could pass for a Muggle.”

“Yeah, well, she stared at it for a really long time and muttered something about you needing to wear that again,” Harry snorted and Draco felt his cheeks tinge pink at the implication.

“So I should pack my jersey for the break?” he retorted, enjoying the way Harry choked on his laugh, knowing it made him thoroughly uncomfortable to imagine the witch he considered a sister doing anything even mildly intimate with a wizard – especially one who was now his friend.

“Do whatever you want, just don’t tell me about it,” Harry flapped his hands at Draco as if trying to shoo away the mere idea, and Draco laughed in earnest.

They settled into their usual seats, and Harry got right down to business, “So, Narcissa owled me this morning saying the solicitor had finalized all the documents, and sent them over for her to review before sealing them. She said it looked like everything was in order, but that she would wait until you had time to see them for yourself before returning them to Hemmings.”

Draco nodded, having also received an owl with the same news at breakfast, “Once it’s sealed, that’s it, then, right? Everything we discussed will be in effect? I’ll be an equal partner with my mother in the estate, and Hermione will be the secondary?”

“Yes, to my understanding, that’s the case.”

“Excellent,” he let out a sigh of relief, “Not that it was a hassle to have my mother sign everything, but it will be easier to handle correspondence with business partners if I can just do it all myself.” He thought for a moment before asking, “Do we need to send some sort of formal letter to all of our associates, letting them know that I’m now legally, officially in charge?”

“I think Hemmings will handle that, but I would double check.”

Draco nodded again, making a mental note to do just that once he was home.

“When do you get to leave?” Harry asked.

“Monday, once all the students who are going home have left. Many are leaving Sunday, but there are a few waiting until the next morning.”

“You have to be back a week later?”

“Yes, all the staff returns the Monday after Easter, and the students will get back on Tuesday,” Draco carded his fingers through his hair, “I can’t believe we’re almost to the end of April. Two more months and the school year is over.”

“It’s gone quickly, yeah?”

“Definitely. I’m looking forward to the Summer hols, but I’m very glad I get to return next year,” Draco admitted with a small smile.

“When do you start your internship, or training, or whatever they call it at Gringotts?”

“I’m hoping to hear from Carson sometime soon to figure all of that out. I know I'll start at some point in July, but we haven't ironed the details yet."

“You’ll be busy, I'm sure,” Harry acknowledged.

“Mmhmm, but I’m good with that. I’d rather be busy than not have enough to do. The idea of wandering around the Manor all day doesn’t appeal to me. I know I’m still on probation for another year, but being here and working with Carson makes me feel like at least I’m doing something, working towards something, y’know? Being stuck at home would make me feel useless,” he shrugged. “I’m not sure how my mother has managed house arrest for two years already without going barmy. I’m going to chalk it up to Andromeda and Teddy’s presence, which I will forever be thankful for.”

“I think you’re right. I know Narcissa hasn’t been out of the house except for that visit with Lucius, but she’s kept herself occupied. Between having to learn to do things without a wand at first, to finding several new hobbies, and living with her sister and great-nephew, I think she’s found a pattern she enjoys. I know she’s also been able to donate a sizable amount of money to the new children’s ward at St. Mungo’s, and the head of the project has even been writing, asking for her input on things.”

That was news to Draco, but he was pleased to hear it, “I’m glad they’ve accepted her help. I know that means a lot to her.”

The unlikely pair continued their conversation awhile longer, touching on a variety of subjects including Harry’s latest cases, a new product at the joke shop, the standing for the House Cup, and their plans for the Easter holiday. As the amicable hero got ready to take his leave, he clapped Draco on the shoulder and wished him luck with his upcoming plans.

“Let me know how it goes,” he said with a knowing smirk, before slipping out the door and letting it close softly behind him.

ooOoo

The students were always a bit nuttier right before a break than at other times, and as a result the last few days before most of them were to head home was rather a circus. On Friday, Draco handed out no less than ten detentions, all for ridiculous infractions involving pranks being played in the corridors. At supper on Saturday, a commotion at a few tables across the Hall drew his attention, and it was soon discovered that someone had snuck random Shock-O-Chocs in amongst the other treats on the platters that had appeared for pudding. Though none of the unwitting victims of the spicy sweets were harmed or put in any danger, it was still a bit of an unpleasant surprise when the candy they thought to enjoy suddenly turned their tongue and throat into a fiery inferno. Red faces, teary eyes, and bouts of coughing were the worst of the damage, and as Draco and Penelope took stock of the students involved, no one seemed to know where the trick sweets had come from.

More than halfway across the Hall, Draco caught Allison’s eye and cocked a brow in question. She responded with a wide-eyed, overly innocent stare and a shake of her head that wouldn’t have convinced a House Elf. He chuckled to himself, knowing it would be impossible to prove that she’d done it, Slytherin as she was, and decided to keep his suspicions to himself.

On Sunday, the vast majority of the students planning to go home boarded the Hogwarts Express after lunch, leaving roughly a quarter of the children behind, as well as the entire staff. Thankfully, those who remained didn’t seem bent on wreaking havoc, and the rest of the day and evening moved along in peace. Monday morning, Draco finished packing before he headed down to breakfast, knowing that as soon as the last of those departing had left, McGonagall would call a staff meeting before the faculty was dismissed as well.

As it was, shortly before noon, all of them gathered in the large meeting room off the Great Hall where the Headmistress met them with a clearly tired but genuine smile.

“Thank you all, for your assistance in getting the students off safely. I especially appreciated your help, Professor Humboldt, with the Maddox boy. If those puff-mice had gotten loose on the train, it could have been a disaster.” A rumbling of laughter ran around the table at the truth of her statement and she waited a beat before continuing. “There are only five students remaining here for the break, and I’ve made arrangements for all of them to stay in one of the guest chambers closest to my rooms. Mister Filch, Madam Pince, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Slughorn, and I will remain on the premises this week, should you need to reach any of us.” McGonagall’s stern gaze roved across the faces of all of her staff members and she nodded once, as if confirming to herself that everyone had been informed properly. “Does anyone have any questions, or need anything before you all go your separate ways?”

“What time do we need to report back on Monday?” Marcus asked.

“By the afternoon, I should think. I would like for us to take our evening meal together on Monday, and the Hogwarts Express will return in time for supper on Tuesday.”

That settled, she dismissed the group and as Draco strode back out into the hall, Bill caught up with him.

“All set for the break?” he asked, a smug look on his scarred face as he jostled Draco’s elbow with his own.

“Yeah, I think so,” his assistant replied, huffing a low breath.

“It’ll be fine,” Bill insisted, “He’s got to know it’s coming, yeah?”

“I hope so,” Draco sniggered.

“Can’t wait to hear about it next week,” Bill waved as he headed off in the direction of his own quarters, leaving the pale young man to wander up to his own rooms deep in thought.

He gathered up his cloak and his bag, made sure he had his wand, and glanced around the apartment one more time, checking to see if he’d forgotten anything. His eyes landed on the picture of himself and Hermione on the mantle and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged his cheeks up. A mixture of excitement and nerves fluttered around his insides and he took a deep, fortifying breath; life was a journey and this next step was an important one for him and he hoped it went well so he could truly begin planning for a future with his favorite witch.

ooOoo

Apparently Narcissa had not been exaggerating when she’d said Teddy kept asking for him. From the moment Draco stepped through the floo on Monday afternoon, the small boy had been his constant shadow, insisting his cousin sit near him at meals, following him back to his study, climbing into his lap every time he sat on the couch. Having just turned two the week before, his vocabulary was still fairly limited, but he was much more understandable and his little personality was on full display.

Draco had sent him a colorful pop-up book about dragons, and another one about a snitch that wanted to see the world, along with a stuffed version – a soft, golden ball roughly the size of an orange that had gold fabric wings. At any given point during the day, Teddy could be found clutching the new toy as he bounded from one room to the next in search of his favorite cousin, his hair a matching shade of platinum blonde, his calls for “Ake” echoing around the halls. The older wizard wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done to earn such favor, but he was more than happy to entertain the rambunctious toddler. He knew his aunt could use a break, and it helped the time go faster while he waited for Hermione and her parents to arrive.

She had told him her folks would be getting to Grimmauld on Tuesday afternoon, using their trusty portkey, and she wanted to give them the remainder of that day to rest and adjust to the time difference. She promised they’d come to the Manor shortly before lunch on Wednesday, and he was literally counting the minutes until that took place. He always looked forward to seeing her, and was very glad to have Edward and Jeanette visit again, but there were things he needed to do, and it just made the waiting that much more unbearable. He even intentionally took Teddy back outside after dinner on Tuesday to expend some of his nervous energy and hopefully tire himself out enough to get a few hours of sleep. It worked, but he was still up at the crack of dawn, pacing the rug in front of the fireplace in his bedroom, wondering exactly how he was going to manage the conversation he needed to have.

By eleven o’clock, he’d already choked down some breakfast, read three books to Teddy, drank a second cup of coffee, taken Teddy for a walk in the garden, changed his shirt, played hide-and-seek with Teddy in the library, changed his shirt again, and read the same three books to Teddy. Andromeda had collected the boy for a quick bath and change of clothes, leaving Draco to now pace in front of the fireplace in the foyer, where the Grangers would be arriving any minute. He was just debating switching his shoes when green flames flared and deposited his girlfriend on the hearth.

“Hello,” she greeted him with a radiant smile as he stepped up to greet her with a kiss and a fully-encompassing hug.

“Hello,” he mumbled, his face buried in her curls as he squeezed her tightly for a beat. He released her as soon as he heard the floo roar to life a second time, and pulled away to greet Edward and Jeanette as they stepped through together.

“It’s so good to see you both,” Draco said as he embraced Jeanette and offered his hand to Edward, but the older man pulled him in for a hug and a clap on the back, both of them echoing his happy sentiments. Narcissa appeared a second later, greeting her guests with affectionate grace and calling for Merry to take their belongings to their rooms. The Elf was quick to oblige and once their bags had been whisked away, they all made their way to the sitting room to catch up with one another until lunchtime.

As conversation flowed, Draco couldn’t help but marvel at the ease with which they fell into this dynamic. Normally, when visitors came, it was a much stiffer, more formal affair. He remembered many times, as a child, seeing his parents sitting straight-backed and proper, while engaging their guests with whatever acceptable topic they thought relevant; the weather, the latest home and fashion designs, articles from recent publications. Nothing personal or below the surface was ever discussed, and no one ever relaxed. Here, with the Grangers, everyone was comfortably settled into their seats, and multiple conversations were happening at the same time, none of which would ever be deemed appropriate in society circles.

Narcissa was telling Jeanette all about a recent baking disaster she’d endured, laughing so hard he could have sworn he heard her _snort._ Edward and Andromeda were discussing the Muggle Prime Minister and some sort of scandal at Kensington, and Hermione was engaging Teddy in a chat about Nifflers as he unwrapped the stuffed version she’d brought him and a book to go along with it. The story was, of course, about a particularly curious Niffler who went after something shiny that turned out to be a firefly. The whole scene was lively and entertaining and made Draco’s heart swell with affection for each person in the room, and he truly hoped it could always be this way.

Lunch passed in similar fashion, and once the plates had been cleared away, Narcissa invited the ladies out to the garden where some of her prized roses were beginning to bloom, which left Edward and Draco wandering back into the sitting room.

“So, tell me all about your time at Wembley,” Edward started as they sank onto the couch, each in their own corner, but angled to see each other clearly while they talked.

A wide grin split the pale blonde’s face, “It was absolutely brilliant.” He stopped himself, though. As much as he wanted to launch into a detailed description of his adventure with Harry, he knew there was something he needed to do first, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything, but…” he glanced around, making sure they were truly alone, “There is something I’d like to talk to you about first.” His expression sobered slightly and he met the older man’s kind face with determination. Edward nodded, indicating Draco should proceed, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

“I… well… I know this might seem rather sudden, but I assure you I have put a great deal of thought into it,” his mouth was getting drier by the second and he could feel his palms starting to grow sweaty as he pressed them together. “I love Hermione, more than anyone in the world. She’s amazing, and brilliant, and kind-hearted, and…” He was rambling and needed to get back on track. “I want nothing more than to show her, every day, how much she means to me.” He swallowed audibly, his gaze faltering slightly as he said the next bit, settling somewhere on the buttons on Edward’s shirt, “I realize I still have a little over a year left of my probation, but I’ve got a solid job prospect for when that’s over, and I have no doubt that I could provide a good life for her.” He forced himself to meet the deep brown eyes that were so very like Hermione’s, “I would like to ask for your permission, your blessing, to marry her.”

His breath left him in a _whoosh_ and he felt a little embarrassed by how much it had taken for him to get through that short speech. Edward was studying him with a warm, open expression and only a beat or two passed before he nodded firmly and beamed at the young man.

“Can’t say I’m surprised, to be honest. I know you love her, son. It’s clear as day on your face every time you look at her,” he chuckled, “I remember those days.” He fixed Draco with a more serious look, “I’m not the slightest bit worried about the rest of your probation, or your ability to take care of my daughter. We, Jeanette and I, have seen enough evidence of your character over the past year to know Hermione will be happy and supported and well taken care of by you.” He stuck out his hand and held firmly when Draco clasped it, “Now, you’re sure you know what you’re getting into? She can be a bit stubborn, even a little obstinate at times.” Both men snickered heartily at that and Draco nodded emphatically.

“Oh, I know. It’s one of the things I appreciate most about her. She doesn’t back down from a fight.”

“Too right,” Edward settled back against the cushions, a pensive look on his face. “I know I speak for my wife as well when I say we would be honored and delighted to give you our blessing. Hermione is lucky to have found someone who loves her so completely, and we’re happy to have you as a permanent member of our family.”

“I appreciate that,” Draco nodded, his throat thick with emotion, “More than you know.”

“I hope I’m not overstepping here, son, but I want you to know that if you ever need anything – someone to talk to, or run questions or ideas by; a change of scenery; a bit of help – we will always be here for you. Know that.” Edward peered at him intently, watching as a slew of emotions flitted across the handsome wizard’s face. “We were very sorry to hear about your father’s passing. Not to put a damper on things, but I can’t imagine that’s been easy, so again, if you need anything,” he cocked his head in a gesture that clearly meant _I’m here_ , and Draco could not find the words to express how much that meant to him.

“Thank you,” he managed to rasp out, “It’s been… overwhelming… at times. Especially with the whole disaster with his will. Did Hermione tell you about all that?”

“A bit. Mostly just that Lucius had put a stipulation in there about you marrying only a Pureblood. But she said it was all sorted now,” a brow arched in question and Draco nodded, confirming that statement, and running a hand down his face as he huffed in exasperation.

“It was ridiculous, to be honest, but it’s done and over and he has no sway over my life or my decisions anymore,” he realized after he said it, how cold and unfeeling it sounded, and was afraid he might have offended the other man. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean…” But Edward cut him off.

“It’s alright, Draco. Relationships are messy – they’re all based on imperfect connections between imperfect people – and I know your ties to your father were complicated and fraught with difficulty. It’s okay to feel relief that it’s over,” he stopped himself before he said anything more. He still couldn’t fully wrap his mind around the way Lucius Malfoy had raised his son, or had treated him throughout his life. The things Hermione had shared with him and Jeanette about Draco being forced into serving Voldemort… well, it was despicable to say the least and his heart often ached for the young man seated across from him. He was clearly still dealing with scars left by his father’s words, actions, and choices, but Edward resolved to bolster and encourage his future son-in-law as much as possible; to let him know he was someone to be proud of.

“Well,” Edward slapped his hands down on his thighs, “Now that we’ve covered all the heavy topics for the day, how about you tell me about the semi-final?” Draco grinned appreciatively and launched into a detailed description of his day out in the Muggle world; his experience on the tube, the impressiveness of the stadium, the excitement of the match, and the broadening of his culinary horizons.

“Oh! And I got this,” he waved his wand and a few seconds later, the program from the match came soaring into the room. He caught it and handed it to Edward, who glanced at it and then did a double-take, his eyes wide as he read the two signatures splayed across the front-side graphics.

“Giggs and Blomqvist,” he marveled, “That’s impressive!”

“They’re excellent players,” Draco said, “As is Beckham. I can understand why he’s your favorite.”

“He’s incredible,” Edward agreed, “Easily worth the fortune they pay him.”

They fell into an easy conversation about professional athletes, comparing the world of football to that of Quidditch, and eventually other sports as well. As Edward attempted to explain the rules of rugby, a small part of Draco’s brain wondered what it would have been like to grow up with a father like this; someone who would engage in normal conversations, who would share interests and offer advice, who would at least attempt to connect with his son as a person and not just a pawn in his own strategical game. He refused to let bitterness or resentment consume him, however, and shoved the brooding thoughts away. He might not have had a stellar example growing up, but it was abundantly clear that Edward was happy to engage him and seemed to simply _like_ him, as silly as that might sound. He just gave him permission to marry his only daughter, so he must approve of him at least on some basic level.

That thought rattled through him like a wayward spell, ricocheting off his nerves with tiny shocks – _approval_.

How long had he tried to gain his father’s approval? How many years had he wasted following every command, bending to every whim, shouldering burdens that weren’t his to bear. Everyone said he was his father in miniature, but it had only ever been a physical resemblance, he knew that now. Nothing he did or said or achieved had ever been enough for the man and he was quite certain that even if he’d carried it all off perfectly, he still would have fallen short of the mark. And yet, here was Edward Granger, a Muggle dentist, whom he had known for less than a year, offering his unwavering support and acceptance, welcoming him into the fold, trusting him with his daughter. This was what family was supposed to be, and Draco found himself overcome with the realization that he was finally part of that which he had always longed for.

Edward was going on about the difference between “ _rucking_ ” and “ _counter-rucking_ ,” completely oblivious to the emotional overhaul his companion had just undergone, but Draco was thankful for that. It gave him a minute to collect himself, calm his racing heart, blink away the unshed tears, and school his expression and voice back into something more neutral.

“Here,” he said, summoning a notebook and quill, which he changed into a pen, handing the items to the older man, “Could you sketch it out for me? I’m having a hard time envisioning the _touchline_ versus the _touch-in-goal line_.” Edward grinned at him and happily obliged, immediately drawing out the basic set up of a rugby pitch while Draco scooted closer to his side to watch, content to immerse himself in the comfortable ease he found between them, and smiling to himself as he considered that this could very possibly become a regular occurrence in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH! The first "real" step in the whole process for Draco and I couldn't be more excited. His relationship with Edward will continue to grow and strengthen and I am just so, so glad that he has this man in his life now. Much of Edward's personality and tendencies (and love of "dad jokes") are modeled after my own dad, who straight up asked my husband if he "was sure he wanted me" when they had a similar conversation. Lol ;) I think I might have been a tad optimistic when I said "ten more chapters" a little bit ago, because I've already written through Chapter 82, and will most definitely NOT be done in two more. Oh well!   
> Thank you so much for reading - I appreciate having all of you along for the ride and hope you're enjoying the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I'll be 100% honest and say this is my little escape from reality; something that has become more of a necessity over the last year than it had ever been before!   
> I hope this Monday finds you all well and able to find something to smile about <3


	78. All the Eggs in One Basket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The break continues with lots of fun traditions, and Teddy steals the show.

Narcissa loved having company. She loved entertaining and being a hostess. She loved planning menus and plotting seating arrangements. For years she had honed her skills by organizing some of the grandest, most opulent events of Pureblood society. Indeed, it was not an exaggeration for her to say that for over a decade straight, an invitation to a Malfoy soiree was highly coveted by many in the upper echelon. She had taken great pride in the poorly concealed looks of awe and wonder and even jealousy on the faces of her guests as they gazed at the glittering chandeliers, enormous flower arrangements, elegant place settings, and endless array of gourmet offerings that were always a part of the events her family had hosted. While the delight she found in all the preparations was very much still intact, she’d recently come to realize that it stemmed from an entirely different quarter.

Her year without her wand had started out as a substantial struggle with a steep learning curve. At first, she was entirely alone, aside from the handful of House Elves and Harry’s weekly visits, and she was completely at a loss as to how to fill her days. Before… _everything_ … she'd had a daily routine of meal planning and social calls, household tasks to oversee, and upcoming galas or dinners or teas to arrange. All of a sudden, she had none of that, nor would she for the foreseeable future, and she felt as if her entire purpose and identity had been stripped from her. When Draco was around, it was a little more bearable, but then he left again and not until Andromeda and Teddy moved in did she begin to feel like her sense of purpose had returned. She had people to take care of and needs to meet, and even if that meant doing things without magic, at least she was occupied.

Harry’s small birthday party the previous summer had been the closest thing to an event she’d been able to pull off since before the start of Draco’s Sixth Year, and she hadn’t realized how much she had missed it until the table had been set and the candles lit, and the raven-haired young man she’d grown quite fond of had beamed with surprise and elation at her efforts. Hosting Hermione for a weekend had been another small achievement, and then the Grangers at Christmas had been the next opportunity to put her dormant skills to use, but instead of wanting to impress the Muggle couple with the Goblin-made silverware, or the priceless art on the walls, she simply wanted them to feel welcome and comfortable, and for them to enjoy their stay. They had, and the happiness she’d felt at the success of it all had stuck with her for days after their departure. Having them back for Easter was something she’d been looking forward to for weeks – months, if she was honest – leading up to the latter part of April.

As she walked through the rose garden with Jeanette by her side, she considered how vastly different her life was now, and was not ashamed to admit she preferred many of changes the aftermath of the war had forced on her. Here she was, chatting amicably with a woman who was just as intelligent, just as well-read and well-mannered, just as capable as she herself was. They were both mothers, both in the middle years of their lives, both married (though Narcissa’s status had recently changed), and both shared a love of reading, gardening, and baking. The only glaring difference was that one woman possessed magical abilities, while the other did not, but the elegant witch realized that this did not make Jeanette lesser in any way, and she was ashamed to admit she had held to that belief so staunchly for so much of her life.

She vowed to herself, as they wound their way along the stone path, to make sure that her drastically-altered views about non-magical people would be widely known in the Wizarding World, and that she would do whatever it took to show that her change of heart was real. Unless she was much mistaken, she had an inkling that Draco and Hermione would be on a path towards a future together sooner rather than later, and she refused to let anyone think she considered her future-daughter-in-law inferior in any way whatsoever. Being entirely honest, Narcissa was sure that the Brightest Witch of the Age could best her in a contest of wits or skill any day, and she could also readily acknowledge the pride that swelled in her heart towards the young woman, instead of the sneering derision she once expressed.

The only thing that worried her was the fact that her sentence – five years of house arrest – would not be up for another three years, and she doubted her son would want to wait that long to marry his witch. While she’d had her wand returned last June, she still had very specific and severe restrictions on where she could go and what she could do. She understood the terms of her sentencing, and truly felt the Wizengamot had been extremely lenient with her, so she wasn’t about to question it or push for something more to her liking. She just wondered what she might be allowed to do if a wedding truly was in the cards for something on the near horizon.

“Have you ever grown lavender with your roses?” Jeanette was asking, her voice pulling Narcissa from her reverie.

“No, I’ve never thought to do that,” the blonde witch admitted, “Is it something you’ve had success with?”

“Oh, yes,” Jeanette smiled, “It’s one of the best companions to almost all types of roses since it also prefers full sun.”

“Hmm… That would be very pretty. Especially over where the Polyantha are, since they happen to be planted a bit further apart than the English and Noisettes.”

“The purple would look lovely with that pale pink,” Hermione’s mother nodded in agreement.

“What are some other tips you’ve used over the years?” Narcissa asked, genuinely curious, and she smiled to herself as her guest immediately launched into a detailed description of her gardening tricks, her expressions and hand gestures so very like her daughter’s, it was utterly endearing.

The unlikely pair continued their stroll, and their friendly conversation, while Andromeda and Hermione followed behind, chatting about their own topics of interest, and Narcissa allowed herself to hope for many more days like it to come.

ooOoo

As it had been back at Christmas, the days at the Manor were a blur of late breakfasts, animated conversations, attempts at new baking recipes, introductions to favorite games, leisurely dinners, and turns at entertaining one seemingly untiring toddler. While Draco remained Teddy’s favorite, the fact that there were three other people available to play with made the boisterous little tyke extremely happy. Edward was the best at block towers and building roads for tiny cars, Hermione could always be counted on to charm a collection of stuffed animals to act out a story, and Jeanette was content to let the busy two-year-old take her by the finger and lead her wherever he wanted to go in the grand house. Andromeda kept telling them they didn’t need to bow to his every whim, but they repeatedly told her they didn’t mind in the slightest, which was the truth.

The weather was gorgeous – warmer than usual for late April in Britain – which meant they spent a good deal of time out of doors. On Friday, they took tea out on the patio and played a Muggle game called “ _bocce_ ” in which each person had to try to throw their two, brightly colored balls closest to a smaller black one. It was fairly straightforward, and they let Teddy throw the target ball at the start of every game, which pleased him immensely. They played multiple rounds, but when the young lad started grabbing the players’ balls before they could be measured to see who’d won, Andromeda decided it was time for his bath and a bit of a kip before supper. Narcissa excused herself to find Merry, and the Grangers opted to read inside, leaving Draco and Hermione alone on the sunlit grounds.

Draco flopped down on the grass next to where they had just packed up the game, enjoying the warmth of the sun’s rays and the company of his girlfriend, who joined him on the soft, green surface. Side-by-side, their hands found each other, fingers intertwining as they lay there, eyes closed, but still smiling.

“That was fun,” he said, “Who knew tossing a mildly heavy ball near a target required such precision.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed in response, “We used to play it at picnics all the time. I’ve played it with my folks at their home in Redland, too. Mum was saying their neighbors like to come over for a game or two on Sunday nights.”

“That sounds nice.”

A comfortable silence fell around them and if not for the fact that they’d be expected for dinner in a short while, they might have both dozed off. In order to keep from falling asleep, Hermione shared a thought.

“We should go back to that clearing sometime.”

“Clearing?” Draco mumbled, his voice betraying his sleepy state.

“The one you showed me last Summer – where you used to pretend at being a knight. We had a picnic there,” she poked him in the side, earning a yelp as his eyes flew open and he flipped over so he was facing her, propped up on his elbow and glaring at her with mock severity.

“No poking!” he warned.

“Or what?” she taunted.

“Or this,” without warning, his other arm snaked around her waist and his fingers launched a tickling attack on her ribcage that had her squealing in seconds.

“Stop! Stop! Ahahahaha! I promise, no more poking!” she wheezed.

“Good,” he ceased his assault and instead gently brushed a curl from her forehead, gazing intently into her chocolate-brown eyes for a moment before leaning in to kiss her softly. He let himself get lost in her for a minute or two, before reluctantly pulling back, not wanting to push his luck in the fleeting bit of privacy they’d been granted. He didn’t move away, though, but stayed angled towards her, smiling down at her.

“We can go back to the clearing,” he offered, “I’m not sure we’ll have time this weekend, but maybe over the Summer break?”

“That would be nice,” she nodded, carding her fingers through his hair and trailing her hand down the side of his face, “Make another day of it?”

“Anything you want,” he murmured, unable to stop himself from bringing his lips to hers again. This time, Hermione was the one to shift away after several blissful seconds.

“We should probably go in and freshen up before supper.”

He sighed laboriously, which she sniggered at, but he hoisted himself up and offered his hand to bring her along with him. She took it and they ambled back into the Manor, taking their time getting back to their rooms and agreeing to meet up in the sitting room once they were both done. As Draco watched the door close behind her, an idea started swirling around in his brain and he tucked it away for further examination later when he had more time.

ooOoo

It had been decided that Saturday would be the day for the egg hunt, which meant breakfast that morning was a time for questions and explanations and whatnot, for which Hermione had been prepared. Just as Draco started asking why anyone would hide eggs anywhere – when they could be crushed and would make an absolute mess – she pulled several brightly-colored, shiny eggs from somewhere under her chair and placed them on the table.

“Those aren’t real eggs… are they?” Draco leaned closer to get a better look.

“No, they’re plastic,” Hermione explained, reaching forward and popping a blue one open to reveal a small, wrapped chocolate inside.

“They come with candy?” the pale blonde lit up like Christmas had arrived again.

“Well, not exactly. You buy the eggs, and the candy, and fill them yourself,” she gestured to the other eggs, encouraging the three magical people at the table to take one for closer inspection.

Narcissa opened a purple one that deposited a handful of jellybeans onto the table, and Andromeda found a marshmallow bunny in hers, which Teddy promptly snatched out of her hand and shoved in his mouth, much to everyone’s amusement. Draco opened a green one and found four shiny coins.

“What’s this?” he was confused.

“Sometimes they have money in them,” Jeanette told him, “Those are four, fifty-pence coins, which equal about a pound in our money, which is roughly the same as four sickles in yours.” She seemed quite pleased with herself and her ability to explain it so succinctly, and winked at her daughter when she was done.

Draco looked fascinated by the coins, turning them over in his palm and inspecting the engravings on each side.

“So, we’ve got about thirty of these,” Hermione gestured to the eggs, “And all sorts of things to fill them with before we hide them for Teddy. I also got him this,” she reached beneath her seat again and brandished a colorful, woven basket with a skinny handle. “This is the type of basket I’d always collect my eggs in,” she smiled at her parents, who nodded in affirmation.

“It’s perfect,” Narcissa exclaimed, beaming at her. “We should go ahead and fill the eggs as soon as breakfast is cleared away, and then we can keep Teddy occupied while you hide them.”

“Oh, let us do that,” Jeanette waved her hand between herself and Edward, “That way you all can enjoy hiding them for him. It’s an important part of the whole experience.”

The two older witches agreed and a few minutes later, the table was empty and the Grangers were leading an excited Teddy back towards his playroom with the promise of a massive block tower and a city for his cars to drive through. Hermione had gone to gather all the egg-stuffing supplies, and returned with an armload of candy and trinkets and, of course, more plastic eggs. As they got to work, questions were asked about Muggle Easter traditions, and what other types of things plastic was used for.

“I think the only thing we have that’s even close to it, are sweets wrappers," Narcissa was looking between the pile of individually wrapped, fruit-shaped candies Hermione had brought, and a handful of similarly-packaged bonbons from Honeyduke’s. Even so, the Wizarding version wasn’t as stiff or clear, and had more of a papery consistency.

“Teddy’s cars are plastic,” Andromeda added, “And I recently got him an oversized bat and ball set. Ted used to love American baseball.” She smiled fondly and nodded at the assortment of treats, “He hid eggs for Dora a few times when she was small. She loved it, of course, and kept all the eggs after every hunt. I didn’t realize how many there were until she was about six or seven, and we rearranged her room. There were almost one hundred eggs under her bed!” Everyone chuckled at that and in no time, every egg was filled to bursting with candy, or small toys, or knuts. Hermione had even found some miniature picture books probably meant for a doll that fit perfectly inside.

“Now, we hide them,” she clapped her hands eagerly, then made three copies of the basket she’d brought for Teddy, and sent clusters of eggs into each one. “Since he’ll be the only one searching for them, we should stick to one sizeable area on the grounds. Somewhere with lots of trees or bushes or other nooks and holes to hide them in.”

“How about the area around the fountain? It’s a decent size space, and if we need more, we can follow the path out towards the lawn,” Draco suggested, and everyone agreed that was the perfect choice.

Hermione wished she had a camera with her as she watched Narcissa, Draco, and Andromeda hurrying around, trying to find good places to tuck the many eggs they had. Narcissa actually stomped her foot when an orange egg she’d been trying to tuck into a low branch of a bush kept rolling out, and eventually gave up and simply put it under one of the stone benches with a frustrated huff. At one point, Hermione had to remind her boyfriend that Teddy was very short, and balancing them up in the branches of a tree that even the tall blonde had to stretch to reach, wasn’t the best idea. Eventually all three dozen eggs were hidden, and Andromeda went off to fetch the precocious boy while the other three strategically placed themselves around the section of the garden they were using, so as to hint at where he might find another treasure.

They heard the toddler approaching long before he came into view.

“Eggs! Find Eggs! And Ake find eggs!” he kept exclaiming as he pulled his grandmother towards the fountain. Once he reached the secluded spot, he stopped, eyes wide, mouth forming a perfect “O” as he took in the tiny hints of bright colors that peeked at him through the leaves, out from under the stone structures, and from random perches here and there. His gaze landed on the statue in the middle of the fountain – a young maiden holding a water pitcher under her arm, from which a steady stream splashed into the pool below. Her other hand was raised above her head, almost like a ballet dancer, her fingers mere inches from the top of her marble curls. There was just enough space between that Draco had managed to wedge a bright yellow egg up there, and the sight sent Teddy into a fit of giggles.

“Egg! She have egg!” he patted the top of his own head, chortling with glee, “In she head!”

“Oh my goodness,” Andromeda pretended to be surprised, “You’re right, Teddy! Should that be the first one you get?”

He nodded, still goggling at it and grinning widely.

“Well, come here then,” Draco held his arms out and the little boy scampered over to him, basket swinging to and fro, squealing as his cousin swung him up onto his shoulders and moved towards the fountain. Even with his shins pressed against the stone border around the pool, there was no way Teddy’s little arm could reach that far.

“Help, Ake,” he poked Draco’s temple and bounced in place.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, the pale blonde drawled, “Well, I guess there’s nothing for it,” and stepped right over the edge, into the water, soaking his shoes and pants in an instant, and sending Teddy into a fit of shrieking laughter. The adults watching were all in stitches as well, while Draco caught Hermione’s eye and flashed her a rakish smirk and a wink. She adored watching him interact with Teddy like this, and he knew it. While she did find the whole thing positively adorable, it also stirred something deep within her – seeing him with the small child sent her imagination down a path where one day it would be their own family, their own children. Even at just twenty years of age, she already knew this was something she wanted with him.

Sighing wistfully, she smiled back at Draco and forced herself to focus on the events unfolding around her, and not let her mind wander off in sappy daydreams. There would be plenty of time for that later… after the weekend was over… and she went back to Grimmauld… _sigh_.

Narcissa had optimistically thought they could steer Teddy around the courtyard in a single direction, and then lead him down the path towards the lawn to find the last of the eggs. No such luck. Once Draco set him back down, he bounded off towards the next egg he spotted, and then instead of looking more closely around that same area, ran across the flagstone space to another egg, and then zoomed over to the far corner for another. They all gave up trying to point him in any particular direction, and instead hovered about, tapping their feet next to a bench an egg was under, or waving their hand at a nook in the wall. Every time a new egg was found, an excited yell emitted from the now pink-cheeked toddler, whose basket quickly filled up and a second one was brought out to finish the job.

Once all the eggs had been discovered, the party settled on a large blanket out on the lawn, with Teddy in the middle, surrounded by his treasure.

“Now you get to see what’s inside,” Hermione explained, picking up one of the eggs and popping it open for him. A small packet of M&M’s appeared and Teddy’s eyes went wide. He plucked the treat from its container and shook it, hearing the candy rattle around inside, and thrust it towards Hermione insistently.

“Open?”

The petite brunette looked at Andromeda for permission, knowing that there was so much candy hiding in all the eggs, and not wanting to start something that would be difficult to stop.

“How about you open them all first, dearie,” Andromeda offered. “Put all the treats in here,” she set an empty basket next to him, “And when you’re done, you can pick some to eat.” Teddy nodded solemnly, as if he’d just been given a very important task, and for the next twenty minutes, he and Hermione opened all the eggs, inspected the contents, and then put them in the basket. Another basket was placed on his other side, and all the empty eggs were placed in there.

Draco couldn’t hide his interest in the growing collection of sweets. He’d already snagged two “fun-sized” (as Hermione called them), packs of M&M’s while they were filling the eggs, but he was itching to try the ones called “Skittles,” and wouldn’t turn down a bonbon or two, either. Once Teddy had completed his little job, the older wizard pulled the basket between them and cocked a brow at his young cousin.

“So, what should we try first?”

“We?” intoned Hermione?

“Shhh,” he retorted, “Well, Teddy? What looks best to you?”

The two-year-old studied the collection of candy very seriously, his little brow furrowed in concentration as he looked at all the colorful wrappers. Eventually, he reached in and grabbed two identical ones – both purple packets of “Skittles,” much to his cousin’s delight as he handed one to Draco.

“Open?”

“Of course,” the handsome Pureblood grinned and tore open the corner of the tiny bag before handing it back to Teddy, who then gave him the second one for himself.

Sprawling out on his side, Draco poured the contents onto the blanket – a rainbow of little, round candies, similar in size to the chocolate ones, but he knew they were fruit flavored.

“What do you think they taste like?” he held a red one up for Teddy to inspect. The tyke shrugged, snatched it from between Draco’s fingers and shoved it in his mouth with an impish giggle.

“Hey!”

Teddy just laughed harder at his cousin’s mock-indignation and reached over to grab a green one from on the blanket, his own packet still clutched firmly in his other chubby fist.

“Did I say you could have those?” the scowl on Draco’s face might have been intimidating, had it not been for the mirth dancing in his eyes, or the way his lips kept twitching to hide his smile.

Teddy simply shrieked and lunged for a purple one, stuffing that one in his mouth as well, wholly oblivious to the adults chuckling around him, his attention completely focused on stealing Draco’s candy. The game continued until there was only one Skittle left on the blanket, and the toddler was sporting a multi-colored ring of drool around his mouth. He glanced at the lonely orange sphere, then looked at his cousin, then back at the candy, which he picked up with extremely sticky fingers before holding it out to the other wizard.

“Ake, eat?”

“Well, thank you, Teddy. So nice of you to share,” Draco grinned and took the offered sweet, popping it in his mouth and chewing for a second before giving his verdict. “Very fruity. I do like orange, but I think I need more samples to determine if these are better than the Candy Kittens or not,” he winked at Hermione, who rolled her eyes, knowing her boyfriend’s sweet-tooth was no joke. It was then that Teddy seemed to remember he had a whole second packet of the things, still held tightly in his other hand.

“Yay!” he exclaimed as he dumped them out on the cloth surface where the other pile had just disappeared. And just like that, the game began again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a happy chapter showcasing Narcissa's continued change-of-heart, and the growing bond between the Grangers and the Malfoys. I know plastic Easter eggs are not as common in the UK, but the idea of Teddy hunting for all of them was stuck in my head. There's a bit of an explanation in the next chapter about where the Grangers adopted the tradition from ;)   
> Thanks so much for reading! I truly appreciate you all! <3


	79. Shades of Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Easter traditions are shared, and Edward continues to learn things about his future son-in-law.

After the excitement of the egg hunt, Teddy was positively wiped out (he also might have crashed from his sugar high), and Andromeda whisked him off for a bath and a late nap under much sleepy protest, his little fist rubbing his drooping eyes in sticky circles. Draco promised his cousin he wouldn’t eat a single bite of the candy without him, and handed the basket off to Merry with the express instructions that she should hide it well and only tell his mother and aunt where it was.

Narcissa, Hermione, and Jeanette all wandered off towards the kitchens, where they planned to make sure they had everything they needed to “dye Easter eggs” the next day. Draco had no idea what that meant, but he was sure it would be fun, and only hoped there was a bit of a competition for him to win at some point. Their absence meant he and Edward were free to do whatever they wanted for a bit, so the younger man tossed an idea out there to see what his guest might say.

“You know, we’ve got a small pond on the western edge of the estate,” he offered. “I’m quite certain it’s stocked with fish of some variety, if you’d like to take a look?”

Edward’s eyes lit up and a grin split his friendly face, “Really? You’ve got a fishing hole on your land?” Draco nodded. “I wish I’d known – I’d have brought my new pole!,” Edward lamented good naturedly, “I’ve used it many times since Christmas; it’s fantastic.”

Draco was pleased to know the gift he’d given Hermione’s father was being put to good use, and had an easy solution on hand, “Oh, we’ve got poles and lures and all of it down in a shed near the pond.”

“Lead the way, then,” Edward boomed, chuckling heartily as his host beamed at him and started off towards the opposite side of the grounds than where they’d all just been. On the way, Draco called for Merry, who appeared with a _pop_ , and asked her to let Hermione know where he and her father were going, so she and her mother wouldn’t go looking for them and then panic when they were nowhere to be found. As they strolled across the perfectly-manicured lawn, the two men fell into an easy conversation, with Edward asking questions about the Manor and how it was all managed and looked after. A more in-depth explanation was given about Lucius’ will and the process that had been recently completed regarding Draco’s role over the estate.

“Has there been any push-back from your associates so far?” the kindly dentist asked.

“If there has been, Hemmings has been the one to deal with it. I’ve not heard of any issues, but he would probably only bring something to me if it was a major – like a partnership being severed, or the threat of legal action against me.”

Edward nodded in understanding before asking another question in a slightly different vein, “What does your position over all this,” he waved his hand indicating the large house and surrounding property, “mean for you regarding your future? I know you mentioned training for a job at Gringotts; is that something you’ll be able to juggle with all your responsibilities here? And does it mean you need to live here permanently?”

Draco could tell there was no censure in the man’s questions, just simple curiosity. He knew Edward was trying to figure out what his daughter’s future might possibly look like, and couldn’t fault him for that in the slightest.

“The business aspect of my role here is honestly nothing more than that of a silent partner; signing contracts, reading reports, etcetera. The companies the Malfoy name is connected with are entirely independent and self-sufficient. My father was merely a figurehead. He didn’t actually start any of them, or run any of them personally. They were all either inherited, or purchases he made when another high-society wizard was in need of funds.” He let out a dry laugh, “I’m not even sure he knew what some of them actually do. For example, I happen to know he bought one of the smaller businesses from Mathias Flint at the start of my Fifth Year, after the man gambled away a sizeable portion of his gold to the Goblins. He didn’t do it to help out a friend, but so he could have something over the Flints, should he ever need a favor in return. On paper, it looks like a slow-growing parchment, quill, and ink supplier, but I did a bit of digging last summer while I was familiarizing myself with some of our holdings, and do you know what it actually is?” Draco couldn’t stop the snigger that escaped as Edward shook his head waited eagerly for the reveal. “It’s a Muggle stationery store in Whitehall!” They both laughed at the absurdity of it for a moment as they continued their journey towards the pond, which was just now coming into view.

“There is no way in Godric’s name that Lucius Malfoy would have willingly involved himself in anything Muggle, so to find out he’d become the owner of an actual non-magical business?” Draco barked another laugh, “It’s more than a little ironic.”

“I’d say so,” Edward agreed with a wry smirk. “Were the records just coded so it looked like a Wizarding venture?”

“Exactly. The supply list just traded out the Muggle names for things with magical ones. I knew there was something suspicious when I found an invoice for “wide-tipped eagle feathers,” and discovered they’re actually those markers – Snapies, or Sherpas, or whatever.”

“Sharpies?” Edward offered and the tall blonde snapped his fingers and pointed to his guest.

“That’s the one. Couldn’t remember what Potter called it.”

“Does that happen often?” Edward asked after a beat, “Wizards having a hand in Muggle businesses?” He considered how small the magical world was compared to the rest, and realized they probably needed to expand their boundaries in some ways in order to stay afloat. He’d just never considered what those ways might be.

“I think it’s more common than anyone realizes,” Draco said thoughtfully, “I mean to say, the Flint’s were part of Pureblood society, members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They were just as bigoted and prejudiced as the rest, and if anyone had found out about that connection?” A pale brow arched in sardonic ire and Edward nodded in understanding.

“Will you continue to partner with the stationery store?”

“I don’t see why not,” the younger man shrugged, “I do, however, plan to fix the books so they show the actual products being inventoried, and not the ridiculous fake ones listed. I’ll need to meet with the manager to do that, I suppose. I’ll have to ask Hemmings how to go about all that, since I’m positive Flint never revealed his true identity.”

“Interesting,” Edward mused. “You’ll have to let me know how that turns out.”

Draco nodded and then halted his steps just a few yards away from the bank of a much larger pond than Edward had expected. Truly, it bordered on the size of a small lake, and was absolutely beautiful – the sunlight glittered off the calm surface that only barely rippled in the light, spring breeze, and the entire body was surrounded by lush greenery. Off to the left was apparently the “shed,” though it was really more of a tiny cottage, complete with a front door flanked by two windows, and a covered porch just barely wide enough to fit the two rocking chairs found there.

The door swung open and Draco gestured for the older man to go first, quickly waving his wand to light the sconces on the walls so they could see. The inside consisted of a stone fireplace, a long wooden table with four chairs, a stack of metal buckets, a few wicker baskets, and an entire wall of fishing poles.

Edward couldn’t hide the small gasp as his eyes rested on the collection of gear. His gaze raked over the poles, which were all stood in a sort of wall-mounted bracket and seemed to range from the simplest (barely more than a stick with a string) to a much more modern version, only a few years older than the one Draco had just gifted him for Christmas. There had to be at least two dozen of them, many of which were styles he’d never seen before. He turned to face the pale wizard with amazement clearly etched on his face.

Draco grinned, “Take your pick.”

Edward looked back at the wall, then once more at Draco before striding over towards the newer end of the range. He deliberated between two of the poles for a moment, before asking a question.

“Which one do you like?”

“Oh, ummm,” Draco stepped up to him, hands stuffed in his pockets, a small furrow in his brow. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never used any of them.”

Edward gaped at him for a beat before schooling his features into something more neutral, “You’ve never fished?”

Draco sniggered, “Well, technically, yes, I have. Theo and I used to steal my mother’s embroidery thread and tie it to a couple of long sticks. We’d use whatever we could get our hands on for bait – bugs, worms, bread, bits of meat or vegetables. Fish don’t care much for human food, apparently, but we tried. The only thing we ever caught was one little silverfish that had taken a fancy to the beetle we’d stuck to the line.”

Edward chuckled, though internally he was battling against his growing irritation with Lucius Malfoy. Clearly the newer poles had been purchased in the years since Draco was born, yet the man had never brought his son out there with him? And for all he knew about the bigoted Pureblood, there was no question of the origin of some of the poles on the wall.

“These are Muggle brands,” Edward gestured to the ones closest to where he was standing and let the unanswered questions hang out there. Draco cocked his and contemplated the sight before him.

“You’re right,” he mused, “I honestly have no idea where they actually came from, or if my father ever used them. I can only recall seeing him down here two times in my entire life. Once was with my grandfather, Abraxas, when I was about five. The other was after I started Hogwarts, but I didn’t recognize the man with him.”

Again, Edward forced himself not to give any sign of the sheer disgust he felt towards a man he’d never officially met, and instead, huffed a small breath and smiled warmly at his companion.

“Well, this one’s a good one for beginners. It’s light and easy to cast with,” he pulled a dark red pole from the stand and held it out to Draco, who took it carefully with a look of mild trepidation. Edward grabbed the one next to it for himself and then took a few minutes figuring out what kind of bait and tackle were available in the variety of baskets and boxes and containers sitting around. Picking a handful of the most versatile, since he didn’t know what kind of fish they were going for, he tossed them in a small pail announced they were good to go.

A few minutes later, the unlikely pair were comfortably seated on two low, wooden chairs right at the edge of the bank. As they’d approached, clear indications of life below the serene surface bubbled and rippled about, which heightened their anticipation. Edward showed Draco how to properly bait a hook, and talked him through the basics of the pole he was using. As they settled into their spot beside the water, he warned the new angler that fishing normally took a long time, and that there was a lot of sitting and waiting that often took place. In answer to that pronouncement, Draco summoned Merry again, asking for something to drink and perhaps a snack, and the Elf did not disappoint. She returned in no time with a hamper of chilled bottles of pumpkin juice and butterbeer, as well as a small plate of cheese and crackers, a bowl of grapes, and a selection of biscuits, all of which she set on a small patio table that she conjured from thin air.

“Well, this beats standing on the pier in the blazing sun by myself any day!” Edward announced after a long swallow of juice. Though the weather was warm, the trees around them provided ample shade, and the breeze alleviated the heat that normally would have left them sweating in minutes.

Draco chuckled and nodded, thinking to himself that this was a perfectly enjoyable way to pass the time. He was just about to regale Edward with a story about how he and Theo tried to swim to the opposite bank when there was a tug on his line. He bolted up out of his chair, gripping the pole with white-knuckled force.

“I think there’s a fish! What do I do?” he frantically looked at Edward, who seemed utterly shocked that they were already seeing any sort of action.

“Okay,” he came to stand beside the younger man, “Slowly start reeling it in. That’s it. Just keep it steady.”

Draco did as instructed, only winding the line in a millimeter at a time, while every few seconds there was another tug on it from under the water. He inched his way closer to the edge of the bank as the tip of the pole arched towards its quarry, and continued to bring it in click by click.

“Perfect,” Edward encouraged, keeping an eye on the spot where the fish most likely was, and wondering if they’d actually get it to breach the surface before it escaped.

Brow completely furrowed in concentration, tongue sticking out between his lips, Draco was determined to get his fish. He could almost see the reflection of its scales just inches below the ripples its movements were creating.

“Almost there,” Edward stated, “See if you can go a little quicker and get it all the way up.”

Cranking the reel much faster than he’d been doing, the sudden change of pace seemed to startle the fish enough that it stopped pulling against the line and Draco was able to yank it up into full view.

“It’s… it’s… a _plimpy_?” Draco was flummoxed and slightly offended. Out of all the types of fish he knew existed in the world, to find this oddity in his family’s pond was absurd.

“What on Earth…” Edward stared at the bizarre looking thing – round and bloated, with huge eyes and two _legs_ , and while it might have had what looked like scales covering its body, it was nothing like any other species the experienced fisherman had ever seen. He snorted in amused disbelief, and then chuckled. Then he huffed loudly and cleared his throat, obviously trying not to laugh at the first catch his young friend had managed, but it was a lost cause. Draco caught his eye and the two of them dissolved into a fit of hilarity that left them both gasping and wiping their eyes while the angry pimply kept flailing it’s skinny legs in the air as it dangled from the line.

Eventually, when they could both manage it, Edward showed Draco how to remove the hook from the small creature’s gaping mouth, and toss it back into the water where it disappeared beneath the mild current in an instant. Sinking back into their chairs, they engaged in a lengthy and animated conversation about aquatic life and the similarities between Muggle and magical species, and though the topic never strayed from fish, a deeper commonality was forged that day.

ooOoo

On Easter Sunday, Hermione decided to introduce the three Purebloods among them to another one of her favorite traditions: egg dying. Now, it must be said that this is not truly a British custom, but one that the Grangers had adopted from their neighbors (Larry’s family) who had lived in America for many years before moving next door to the two dentists and their little girl. The first spring the O’Connors spent in Britain, they invited their new friends over for Easter, and showed them this fun little trick where you could turn plain white eggs all different colors in just a few minutes. It immediately became a beloved pastime of both children, and something they looked forward to each year. This was also where the Grangers became familiar with the concept of stuffing plastic eggs, and the two youngsters would hunt for them between their adjacent back gardens, and then compare their haul at the end. Even after Larry moved away, Hermione and her parents still carried on the traditions for several years, until she was no longer home for the Easter hols.

Knowing that white eggs were much harder to find than brown in the UK, the petite brunette made sure to scour the local grocers for them in the weeks leading up to her visit to the Manor. As a result, the six adults and one excitable toddler gathered around the spacious kitchen island where the sight of no less than four dozen eggs greeted them, along with several flat boxes with cartoon rabbits on the front, and a large jug of vinegar.

“Right, so, the eggs need to be boiled before we can dye them, since no one wants to work with raw eggs that can crack and make a giant mess,” Hermione began. “I hard boiled most of them already, so we could get started right away, but I saved a dozen so you could see what that process looks like, too.” She gestured to the stove, where a large pot was sitting on a burner. As Draco approached, he could see it had a few inches of water in it, but was otherwise empty.

“You can go ahead and put these in there, carefully, so they don’t break,” she handed him a carton of eggs and nodded towards the pot with a smile. He set about the simple task, thinking nothing of it, until he just about dropped one in there and cringed when he heard it hit the bottom with slightly more force than the others. Thankfully, it stayed intact, but he was more cautious with the rest after that.

As they had done back at Christmas, everyone was seated on stools around the counter with a set of supplies in front of them, though the partners were swapped; Andromeda was with Edward, Narcissa with Jeanette, and Draco with Hermione. Whether the pairing had been intentionally planned in order to let the young couple work together, Draco didn’t know, but he was immensely pleased to have multiple opportunities to stand close to his witch, to brush her fingers with his own, or rest his hand on her back, to whisper things that made her blush and smile. Just simply being near her made him happy, and he was smugly positive she was enjoying it just as much.

Instructions were given, a demonstration provided, and then they were off. There was no competition this time; not like with the gingerbread houses; and everyone worked on their own colors and designs. Teddy was completely occupied with the little stickers that came in the box, as Andromeda had given him a few of the empty plastic eggs to affix them to while they all worked with the real eggs and dyes. Draco was fascinated by the little white sticks of wax that were used to draw or write on the eggs’ blank surface. It looked like nothing was there until the oval object was removed from its cup of color, and all of a sudden, whatever had been scribbled on it was visible. Jeanette showed everyone how to make stripes, patterns of dots and flowers, and even drew a very good rabbit on hers, and both Narcissa and Andromeda immediately made attempts of their own. Edward didn’t care much for the wax crayon, but instead showed them how to dip separate parts of the egg into different colors, giving a layered look to it. Hermione preferred leaving hers in for long periods of time, so the colors were as bright and vibrant as possible, and said she always made one of each color first, and then decorated the rest in other ways.

Draco focused intently on writing something on six of his eggs, and refused to let Hermione see it until they were completely dyed and finished. Once they were, he presented her with a rainbow of eggs that delivered a message, a word or two on each one…

_You are ~ my everything ~ and ~ I love you ~ very much ~ Hermione._

Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink as she read his sentiments, peering at him through lowered lashes as a smile tugged at her lips. He was grinning like an idiot, and knew their family members were probably fully aware of his lovesick gesture, but he couldn’t be fussed. Now that things had been settled with his father’s will, and they had officially declared their intentions towards one another, he wanted nothing more than to charge full-steam ahead into the future with her. Some specific ideas regarding a proposal had formulated in his brain over the last few days, and he was more determined than ever to get the ball rolling with that as soon as he was back at the school and could plan it all out during his free time.

His musing were interrupted by a small commotion at the end of the island where Teddy had apparently gotten tired of putting the stickers on his eggs, and instead decided to put them on himself. While they seemed to come off his arms and hands easily enough, getting them out of his hair was another story and he hollered in frustration when every attempt only brought pain. Chuckling at his antics, Andromeda simply vanished the stickers from the young lad’s platinum locks – a color he’d maintained every day since Draco had arrived home for the break.

“Here, Teddy,” Hermione placed one of her recently-colored eggs on his tray once it had been cleared of everything else, “You can peel it off and eat it!” She tapped the bright blue egg against the wooden surface, creating a few small cracks that she then gently poked at until she was able to remove a small chip of the outer shell, revealing the still white, cooked egg underneath. The little boy was thoroughly enthralled and mimicked her motions at once, using one finger to scrape at the blue casing until another piece flaked off.

“Oooh!” he squealed in triumphant delight before going right back for another try. While the rest of the adults finished up their artful attempts, the curly-haired brunette kept Teddy’s attention fixed on the task at hand, and after a few minutes, they had divested the egg of all bits of blue, leaving a shiny, almost-rubbery oval in its place. The toddler poked at it and giggled when soft surface moved under his finger.

“Want to open it?” she asked him, and was greeted with a wide-eyed, toothy grin. “This was always another favorite activity of mine” she told the rest of the group as she broke off the top portion of just the white part, revealing the perfectly-round, yellow yolk in the middle. As expected, Teddy was amazed.

“Ball!” he pointed to the unearthed treasure.

Hermione chortled, “Well, it looks like a ball, but it’s still egg. You can eat it.” She tore a small piece of the white part off and handed it to him, earning herself a skeptical glance before he lunged forward and ate it right out of her fingers.

“Mmmm,” he nodded appreciatively, “More!”

She broke the remainder of the top part into bits he could easily pick up and eat, and let him get through those before bringing his focus back to the rest of the egg. She let him take the rest of the white off from around the yolk; most of it disappeared into his mouth, though a few flecks wound up on the floor, or her sleeves, or Teddy’s hair, and eventually they were left with just the little, mustard-colored ball. She set it on his tray, and watched with amusement as he studied it intently.

“Ball?” he asked again.

“Egg,” she replied.

Teddy poked it with his finger and frowned when it rolled an inch or two, clearly unsure about his friend’s insistence that it was _not,_ in fact, a ball.

“You can eat it,” Hermione encouraged, nudging it towards him. He looked at her, then back at the yolk, then back at her, then finally back at the object of his consternation, reaching out a tentative finger and scraping the surface ever so slightly. A tiny bit of yellow stuck to him, and he popped his finger in his mouth to test it out. His nose wrinkled up, and his brow furrowed, as if he wasn’t sure about it at all. He tried again, this time leaving a bigger divot on the curved surface, and after a beat or two of letting the taste of it linger, promptly stuck his tongue out with the remains still on it.

“Eecchh,” he expressed his displeasure, accompanied by an impressive amount of drool as he tried to divest himself of the unpleasant flavor.

Everyone burst out laughing as Hermione quickly vanished the mess and summoned a biscuit for the disgruntled tyke, and conversation swelled as they began sharing stories of their own childhood likes and dislikes. The Muggleborn witch had been so singularly intent on her interaction with Teddy, that she hadn’t noticed the soft smile on Draco’s face, or the way he hadn’t been able to take his eyes from her. And Draco, fully immersed in his admiration of his girlfriend, had not noticed his mother watching him from across the island, a knowing smile quirking her lips, her blue eyes alight with happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Edward and Draco. The End.   
> I thoroughly enjoy dying Easter eggs - always did as a child, and continued the tradition with my own kiddos. Now they're too old to bother with it, but I still do them every year :) I also hugely dislike the yellow part of hard-boiled eggs, and Teddy's reaction is quite accurate. Lol.   
> Thank you, as always, for reading and commenting and remaining on this journey with me! I hope this Monday finds everyone well and that the week ahead is a good one! <3


	80. What May Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione travels to France where she meets a familiar creature, and finds him a new home with the help of her friends.

As April came to a close, Hermione was sent on yet another international assignment (one that had come up rather suddenly and was said to be a bit of an emergency), this time to the quaint village of Castelnou, which is home to under four hundred inhabitants, most of whom are witches and wizards. While it is not entirely a Wizarding hamlet like Hogsmeade or Godric’s Hollow, the small portion of the population who are Muggles are either related to magical folk by marriage, or have grown up among them and shared life with them for so long that any sort of secrecy laws were rendered unnecessary.

The Golden Girl was very thankful for this open familiarity, since she arrived by portkey right in the middle of the village square during the busiest time of day. Hardly anyone blinked at her appearance, save for an elderly lady who welcomed her with a smile and a wave, and beckoned her to come into her shop, where she gave her a strong cup of coffee and a delicious, buttery croissant. Hermione spoke enough French to keep up a light conversation, and soon learned that pretty much everyone in Castelnou was aware of her impending arrival, and were also all hoping she could solve their little problem.

That was a funny way to describe it.

Unlike the Pixies in Germany, there was only one magical creature to be dealt with in the tiny, medieval town, but it was most definitely _not_ little. Not in the slightest.

The older witch, for it turned out she was one, drew a simple map to help Hermione find her quarry, and after pressing a second pastry into her hand, sent the spunky British girl on her way. While most of the town was built into the sloping side of a small mountain, there was a large, ancient castle at the top, and that was precisely where she needed to go. Her information regarding the creature was limited, but from what she had surmised, it had wandered close enough to the residential area a few years ago to garner the attention of a group of local school children, who then decided it would be nice to share their food with it. As almost everyone knows, once you start feeding a wild animal, it will come back for more… and more… and more. As the creature grew, so did its appetite, and though it was by no means aggressive towards the townsfolk, it had recently taken to rummaging through trash bins, poking its head in open windows, and literally following people home from the grocer. Not wanting to anger it, the villagers gave it snacks and treats whenever it appeared, but it was becoming quite a hassle. It also didn’t seem to know its own strength, and more than a few homes and businesses had suffered damage from its friendly invasions.

Well, what would anyone expect from a Hippogriff? For that’s exactly what it was – a fully grown, inky black Hippogriff, with gleaming orange eyes, terrifyingly sharp beak, and deadly-looking talons. Apparently the French Ministry had a kill-on-sight policy towards any creatures larger than a Phoenix (with the exception of a Unicorn), considering them all to be dangerous and unmanageable. As a result, there were very few species of four-legged creatures to be found throughout the entire country, and no one knew where this particular beast had come from.

As Hermione hiked her way up the winding path towards the spot that was supposedly its home, or nest, or den… she wasn’t entirely sure what sort of dwelling it had managed for itself, she wondered just how she was supposed to handle the whole thing. The village councilman who had contacted her had begged her not to contact the French Ministry because no one wanted any harm to come to the creature, which she truly understood, but that left few options for her to choose from. Transporting magical creatures was supposed to follow specific protocol, with caging and restraints, and detailed documentation of where it came from and where it was going. She couldn’t very well just appear in the department’s holding cell with a Hippogriff and claim ignorance as to where she’d acquired it. Thankfully, her boss was well aware of the circumstances, and had granted her permission to take whatever measures she deemed necessary, and promised to back her story up should anyone ask.

As much as it made her squirm to consider it, she was quite certain this was going to have to stay off the books, at least on the front end, and she felt like she was back at Hogwarts trying to help Hagrid divest himself of Norbert.

She halted mid-step. Hagrid. Of course! Hagrid still had Buckbeak in his care, the Hippogriff living contentedly in his own paddock at the edge of the Forbidden Forest where students often visited him and the Thestrals kept him company. If she could get this one to Hagrid, perhaps he could take him on, too. She knew the burly Gamekeeper would be thrilled, and mentally kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. That still left her with the issue of getting it there, though.

Checking her map again, she figured she was more than halfway there, as the houses were fewer and farther apart, and much more farmland filled the spaces between. It was quiet and peaceful, and the view from the higher elevation was gorgeous. She wished she’d brought a camera to capture the scenery around her – it looked just like a picture from a travel brochure or a postcard.

Movement on her left caused her to swing around and she was met with the sight of two young men and one woman, all of whom looked to be about her own age. They smiled and greeted her, and after a brief conversation it was explained that they were the ones to originally spot the creature and befriend it, and still visited it often. Apparently they tried bringing food directly to it, in the hopes that would put a stop to the Hippogriff rambling about town, but it hadn’t worked. They insisted he was very friendly, though he did still expect them to bow every time they approached, and that he responded to the name “Philippe,” which was what they’d been calling him for almost five years now. This was a bit of a joke amongst the trio, as one of the wizards was also named Philippe, but it was what their feathered counterpart had decided to claim as his own one day when they were all together, and they couldn't get him to take another.

“He was much smaller when we first found him,” the girl, Annette, rolled her eyes, her native language rolling off her tongue like music, “But now he is just too big and makes too much of a mess. He is like a giant dog!” They all laughed at that and Hermione asked them to show her to him.

They weren’t kidding about his size. As they rounded the final corner of the barely-visible path, a massive being came into view. Even resting on the ground with his legs curled beneath him, the Hippogriff’s head was as tall as Hermione at her full height. He peered austerely at his visitors, all four of whom immediately bowed respectfully, an action he returned with a deep incline of his own, feathered head.

The other man, Jules, walked towards him, patting him gently on the beak and stroking his brow, speaking quietly in French and gesturing to Hermione, who took a few steps forward so the creature could see her more clearly. Nervously, she extended a hand and Philippe leaned towards her, allowing her to pet his feathers, his eyes closing in delight at all the attention he was receiving.

“I know where I would like to take him, but I’m afraid the only way to get him there without alerting your Ministry would be to fly,” she told her hosts in careful French. “And it would have to be done in two parts, since it’s such a great distance.” Her brain was whirring with the steps she was going to need to take. Thankfully, she’d already planned to spend at least two days in Castelnou, and was cleared to stay longer if necessary. “If it’s alright with you, I would like to call for assistance from one of my friends back in London, and then he and I can bring the Hippogriff… Philippe… to his new home.”

All three of her companions nodded and beamed with excited approval at the plan. While they might have grown very fond of the huge animal over the years, they all knew that the quaint village was no place for him to stay, and that the unintentional destruction he caused would only get worse. Hermione had no doubt that Hagrid would take excellent care of him, and that his appetite would be well sated at regular intervals, which would obliterate the need to venture into a populated area and basically invite himself to dinner.

Wanting to make sure the creature knew she was a friend, she summoned a box from the depths of her bag, un-shrank it, placed it on the ground in front of Philippe, and opened it. Inside were three weasels, two pheasants, and a bucketful of bugs – a gourmet meal for a Hippogriff. She shuddered slightly as she stepped back, glad she hadn’t needed to actually touch any of the contents of the glorified take-away container, and watched as the beast peered at the unexpected offering. A bright orange eye rested on her for a beat or two before the feathered head bowed infinitesimally in her direction, and then he dug into his snack.

After bidding farewell to her new friends, Hermione headed back down to the heart of the town where she’d first arrived, and sought out the same woman as before. Inquiring about a place to stay, the older witch announced that she had a small set of rooms up above her shop available, and that she’d be glad to give it to the visitor for free, in exchange for the assistance she was providing the residents of Castelnou. The Gryffindor Princess accepted gratefully, immediately ensconced herself in her room, sent out two owls and a talking patronus, and wrote a lengthy missive in her two-way journal, telling Draco all about the events of the day and her plan to solve this unique problem.

ooOoo

Bright and early the next morning, Hermione awoke to the sound of someone knocking on her door. Opening it, she found her best friend grinning at her with bright, excited eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he couldn’t contain his energy.

“Morning!” he greeted cheerfully, giving her a once-over with an arched brow, seeing as she was still very much in her pajamas and had just barely opened her eyes.

“Harry,” she smiled sleepily and gave him a hug, “Thank you so much for coming. You were the first person I thought of to help me with this.”

“Of course! Happy to,” he flung himself into the only chair in the room and glanced around, “Cozy little place, yeah?”

“The whole village is a ‘cozy little place,’” she sniggered, “But everyone has been so kind and very appreciative. After I sent you that message, Madam Dubois, my host, insisted on taking me around to meet some of the other folks, and they were all quite happy to share their experiences regarding Philippe with me.” As she spoke she set about gathering a change of clothes, and heading to the loo, where she continued her story through the closed door.

“Just in the last week, apparently he ate the grocer’s entire crate of turnips, stole five chickens from the butcher, knocked over a memorial statue outside the post office, and tore the door off the bakery when he tried to fit through it.” She reappeared, fully clothed, hair tamed, and much more awake than a few minutes earlier. “He’s not the least bit aggressive or mean – he’s not doing these things to cause harm – he’s basically been domesticated.” She sighed, “That’s why I think taking him to Hagrid is the best option, since he already knows how to handle a Hippogriff. Releasing Philippe into another forest somewhere else won’t end well for him, since he honestly doesn’t know how to find his own food anymore.”

Harry nodded in thoughtful understanding and considered this plan of action for a second or two before huffing a sigh and clapping his hands together.

“Right, then, what’s first?”

“Well, I was hoping to hear back from Hagrid by now. I don’t really want to set off without knowing for sure that we can bring him there…” her words trailed off as a tapping on the window interrupted her thought process. Harry, who was closer to it, opened the glass and let the small owl in. It dropped a scroll of parchment into Hermione’s outstretched hand, hooted happily, zoomed around the room twice, and flew back out the window.

Unrolling the letter, Hermione was greeted with a familiar, messy scrawl, “It’s from Hagrid!” she exclaimed, “He said of course he’ll take Philippe, and that we can bring him any time.” Her cheeks tinged pink as her eyes continued to flit back and forth across the page.

“What else does Hagrid say?” Harry prodded.

Hermione waved a hand and grinned sheepishly, “Oh, just that Draco said I should be extremely careful and that he’d be having words with Buckbeak’s new paddock-mate if so much as a single curl on my head was harmed.” She huffed with great exasperation, but couldn’t hide the sparkle in her eyes or the pleased tone in her voice, “He’s ridiculously overdramatic.”

“Y’think?” Harry drawled and was rewarded with a smack on the head with the re-rolled scroll.

“Alright, let’s go,” Hermione announced, and the two left the room, intent on their destination, though not without first being forced by Madam Dubois to sit down and enjoy cups of coffee and multiple brioche buns apiece. Harry was thrilled and gleefully accepted the bag of extra pastries the elderly woman pushed into his hands as they finally exited the shop. Their path through the village was also deterred by many well-wishers and fans of the Boy Who Lived Twice, and it took the better part of an hour for them to even reach the outskirts where the path up to the wooded mountainside began. They trekked along as quickly as possible, and made good time since Hermione was more familiar with the trail now.

She slowed her steps as they drew near and peered cautiously through the bushes to see if her quarry was anywhere to be found. He was. Just as the day before, the majestic creature was basking in a circle of bright sunlight, legs tucked under him, eyes closed, beak tilted up towards the rays of warmth. Hoping to avoid startling him, Hermione intentionally scuffed her trainers on the ground and called in a friendly voice.

“Philippe! _Bonjour_!”

His massive head whipped around, seeking her out and he lumbered to his feet once he did, keeping his profile to her so one gleaming eye was always pinned on her and her new companion.

“ _Comment allez-vous?_ ” she continued in a calm, even voice, bowing deeply and maintaining eye contact, with Harry doing exactly the same behind her.

The Hippogriff stared at them for a moment before deciding that yes, they were welcome, and bent his own knees in return. They both moved closer so as to greet him properly with pats on his beak and generous compliments about how handsome he was and how lovely it was to see him. Harry bit back a chuckle at one point, when he was almost certain the large animal purred in contentment. His appreciation for Buckbeak had grown exponentially over the years, and this winged beast was just as impressive, and just as much of an attention hog, too.

Once again, Hermione set out a box of proffered snacks which Philippe greedily inhaled. As he ate, she mulled over some of her thoughts and shared them with Harry.

“The fun part is going to be trying to convince him to let us ride him,” she said while stroking the shiny, black feathers along his neck and shoulders. “I’m unsure if he actually understands words, or if he just recognizes certain tones of voice and basic sounds.” Directing her attention back to her four-legged friend, she decided to just ask.

“ _Monter?_ ” Philippe paused his chewing and looked at her, so she tried again.

“ _Monter a cheval?_ ” He returned his attention to the box of deceased goodies.

“Ummm… _survoler_?” This time, his head jerked up in response, and she patted his side, closer to where they would need to climb on, repeating the word again. Philippe scarfed down the rest of his treats, peered at her for a beat, then at Harry, and then miraculously bent his two front legs so they could clamber atop his broad back. Making sure her bag was securely attached to her belt, Hermione flung her arms around Harry’s waist as he settled himself as best he could behind those powerful wing joints.

“Ready?” Harry didn’t even try to conceal his enthusiasm as he glanced over his shoulder to find a mop of curls pressed against his back. He snorted a laugh and patted Philippe on the neck, “Alright, then, let’s go!”

Nothing happened.

“Uhhh, Philippe?” he asked, bemused.

“ _Partir_ ,” Hermione whispered from her terrified perch, “He only knows French, so say _partir_.”

“Oh, right,” Harry cleared his throat and tried again, “Partir!” And like a bullet, they were off. Philippe shot straight into the sky, barely missing the larger branches of the closely-grown trees. Hermione was shrieking in an extremely high, shrill tone that bordered on bat-worthy octaves, while Harry was whooping with unrestrained joy. As they cleared the trees and leveled out, the famous wizard had a thought.

“How does he know where to go?”

“Oh, ummm,” Hermione forced herself to sit up a little straighter, though her grip on her best friend was iron-tight, “Philippe, London, _s’il vous plait_.” He must have understood, because he shifted his course a little, turning towards the right. He held steady, and only jostled them when he needed to beat his wings, which wasn’t very often seeing as the wind carried them along quite nicely. The two passengers were very thankful it was a warm, May day, and chatted amicably as they soared above the clouds. Hermione decided that it wasn’t so terrible, just as long as she didn’t look down, and didn’t let go of Harry, and didn’t move at all, and didn’t relax the grip her legs had on Philippe’s solid flanks, and didn’t think about the fact that she was insanely high up in the air. No, not so terrible at all.

ooOoo

The journey from Castelnou to London took a little over eight hours, with one stop in the Forest of Orleans so they could all take a break, stretch their legs, and eat something. The second leg of their trip was a bit shorter, and they had decided to land in Regent’s Park, in a more densely-wooded area than the rest, and were thankful the sun was already setting by the time they arrived. Casting a disillusionment charm on Philippe, they waited until cover of complete darkness before walking the forty-minute distance with the still-invisible beast beside them.

Harry settled his overnight guest in the back garden with lots to eat, fresh water to drink, and heavy charms and wards to keep the Hippogriff in, and keep watchful eyes out. The two flat-mates shoveled down a late dinner, courtesy of Kreacher, and flung themselves into their beds mere minutes later, completely exhausted.

The very next morning, they woke, packed Hermione’s trusty bag with another assortment of Philippe’s favorite foods, as well as some of Kreacher’s baked goods for themselves, and sought out their feathered friend. Thankfully, he was still where they’d left him the night before, and looked quite ready to start another adventure. Repeating the words and motions of the previous day, with the addition of a double-concealment charm and the use of the invisibility cloak, they hurtled into the sky with barely a sound.

This last bit of their journey only took about five hours (much shorter than going by train), and passed without a hitch. They flew right past the school’s protective enchantments that make apparition impossible, and landed just outside Hagrid’s hut as he was finishing up his last lesson for the day. The class of Fourth Years gathered around an enormous metal tub where they’d been observing Murtlaps, goggled at them in utter shock.

“Alrigh’ there Harry? Hermione?” Hagrid boomed as he strode over to greet them, his black eyes glinting with warmth and excitement over this new addition to his menagerie. He stopped several paces away, met Philippe’s haughty gaze, and bowed lowly. His passengers slid off his back, allowing the Hippogriff to offer his acceptance of the gesture, and the friendly giant approached at once, clearly elated with the whole situation.

“You lot are dismissed,” he waved off the students inching their way closer, “We’ll talk more about ‘im termorrow. Let ‘im get settled first.” Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, they obeyed, though there were more than a few backwards glances as they trudged back up towards the castle.

“He’s beautiful,” Hagrid murmured as his hands roved over the raven-black feathers and matching fur. “Philippe, yer said?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied, “From what the people in Castelnou could guess, he was about two years old when he appeared in their woods, and that was five years ago, so he’s at least seven now.”

“Fully grown, then,” Hagrid assessed.

“He’s got a healthy appetite,” Harry chortled, “I lost track of how many times Hermione duplicated that box of beetles and ferrets.”

“Weasels, they were weasels,” she insisted.

“Ferrets hit a little too close to home?” he teased and she swatted his arm.

“I should let Draco know we’re here, though,” she stated, digging into her bag for her wand to send him a patronus.

“Don’t bother,” Harry stalled her, and when questioning brown eyes found him, he simply jerked his head towards a point over her shoulder. She turned around to see a tall, blonde, stern-faced wizard positively stomping down the lawn as quickly as he could without actually running.

“Draco! I was just,” but her words were muffled as he pulled her into a fierce hug, wrapping his arms around her in a vice-like grip. She could hear his heart thundering in his chest and his breathing coming out in harsh pants.

“She’s fine, mate. We’re both fine. It went brilliantly,” Harry offered in a placating tone, and though Hermione felt him nod and heard him give a grunt of understanding, his hold on her didn’t lessen.

“Shall we show Philippe to his new home?” Harry asked Hagrid, clearly trying to give the young couple a few minutes alone. The Gamekeeper was more than happy to comply and the two set off to introduce the newcomer to Buckbeak.

A long, shaky sigh left the pale wizard and he relaxed his embrace just enough for her to tilt her head up and look at him. Silver eyes were flashing, and there was a deep furrow in his brow – to most, it would probably look like he was furious with her, but she knew he’d only been worried.

“I’m completely fine, Draco,” she assured him, wiggling her arm out from between them so she could press her palm to his cheek, “I told you last night that we’d gotten home; did you not see my message?”

“I did, I just…” he huffed a forceful breath, “I know you don’t like flying, and that was a really, really long trip. If anything had happened to you…” He shook his head, his gaze softening as he drank in her familiar features. “I didn’t realize how… how… freaked out I would get, knowing you might possibly be in danger.”

“Well, it’s all over now, and I’m very glad to be back on the ground,” she teased, hoping to alleviate the tension still visible on his face.

“Just… just stay there now, okay?” he pleaded and her heart melted at the genuine concern and fear that flickered across his visage.

“I have no intentions of flying anywhere else,” she popped up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. She knew she couldn’t promise him she’d never encounter treacherous or life-threatening situations again, but she truly had no plans to intentionally engage in anything even remotely dangerous in the near future. She doubted very highly that the House Elf legislation she was working on, or the ban on Bowtruckle breeding she’d drafted, would warrant any sort of perilous action.

He returned the kiss with obvious relief and by the time Harry and Hagrid returned, they were chatting comfortably on the front steps of the half-giant’s hut. Wanting to avoid a scene up at the castle, the two visitors happy accepted Hagrid’s invitation to dinner, and the four of them spent the evening discussing Philippe and his antics in the remote village of Castelnou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just a fun little adventure for Hermione and Harry :) There's only two months left of school left, and much will take place in those weeks!! Thank you all so much for reading along - we're definitely coming around the final bend in the road here, soon! <3


	81. For Future Reference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco discusses his plans for the future, and Carson visits the castle.

During the second week of May, Draco was summoned to the Headmistress’ office after lunch, and he couldn’t help the twinge of apprehension that flickered when he read the short note she’d sent by means of Andrew in his DADA class. He knew full well that he was no longer a student, and wasn’t going to be given detention or reprimanded for anything, and yet he still felt like he was twelve years old again as he trudged up the steps to the spacious apartment.

“Ah, Coach Malfoy,” McGonagall greeted him, gesturing for him to take the seat across from her.

“Hello, Headmistress,” he inclined his head politely and tried to simply look mildly curious instead of fearful.

“I wanted to check with you and find a time for your end-of-year review, and also for you to meet with Mister Carson,” she consulted the parchment in front of her to make sure she’d gotten the name correct and Draco immediately relaxed. Though the idea of an employment review was a little daunting, he knew he’d done well, so he shelved his worries and wracked his brain for his calendar over the next few weeks.

“I don’t have anything out of the ordinary,” he began, “There’s one final Quidditch match at the end of this month, and then exams in June, but otherwise…” He shrugged, indicating he was at her disposal.

“Very good,” she nodded curtly, “I do try to have the staff reviews during normal work hours whenever possible. Would you prefer to meet during a free period, or over lunch? Or we can wait until classes are finished for the day.”

“I’m happy to meet during lunch, if that’s alright with you,” he offered, knowing that his free period was often spent preparing for the next round of lessons, or even meeting with students who needed extra help.

The severe witch flipped a page over in a book Draco assumed was a planner or calendar since she seemed to be searching for something specific. His guess was confirmed when she tapped a spot with her finger before nodding and meeting his gaze again.

“Would Tuesday of next week be acceptable?”

“Of course,” his lips quirked in amusement at the exceptionally formal tone she used for something as mundane as a faculty meeting. She wrote him in on that day and continued her line of questioning.

“And for Mister Carson, it is my understanding he wishes to meet with both of us to discuss your training with him, your schedule, and any other details that need to be finalized. I would assume it would take longer than just a lunch break, but I am happy to give you clearance for half of a day if necessary. His only request was that it be on a Monday or Friday.”

Draco thought through the next few weeks as quickly as possible, accounting for Quidditch practices and the final match, as well as the Eight Years’ Game Night, and his regular faculty duties outside of the classroom.

“Would a Monday morning be possible? Or early part of the afternoon? I know Bill doesn’t need me in lessons, but I’d rather not have to ask another staff member to cover my patrols or flying lessons, and the start of the week is the best time to manage that.”

“I don’t see why not,” she nodded and made a note to herself, “I shall owl Mister Carson at once and see if we can’t manage this coming Monday. I will let you know as soon as I’ve heard.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” Draco replied sincerely.

“One last thing,” she folded her hands and looked at him with something akin to pride, “Minister Shaklebolt informed me that he will not need to meet with us at the end of this year, as he did the last. He said he has full confidence in your performance here throughout this school year, and that he will simply wait until you and Auror Potter confer with him at the end of June, and even that is a mere formality.”

Draco hadn’t been expecting that, and was taken aback at the waving of the previous protocol he had been subjected to. It hadn’t been anything awful, and he’d fully accepted and understood the need for it. To have Kingsley say it wasn’t necessary made him feel lighter somehow, and yet humbled at the same time.

“That’s… that’s great. Thank you, Headmistress,” he finally managed.

“You’re quite welcome,” she gave him a small smile, “It has been a pleasure to have you on our staff this year, and I am very pleased you’ll be staying on as our Flying Instructor again. I know the students will feel the same.”

He didn’t know if he could handle any more compliments from the normally-stoic witch and felt his cheeks heat up as he nodded and grinned at her.

“I’m glad it worked out for me to do so.”

“Well, then,” she returned to her crisp, no-nonsense manner, “If there’s nothing else you need from me, you are free to go, Coach Malfoy.”

He stood, bowed slightly, and bid her good evening before striding out the door, his mind immediately whirring with thoughts about his upcoming meeting with Carson and his one-year evaluation as a faculty member. He realized he was actually looking forward to both of them, though the conversation with the Curse Breaker would probably be far more interesting and enjoyable, but he was also eager to hear what his former professor had surmised of his first year as a pseudo-teacher. He almost hoped she had at least one negative or cautionary thing to tell him, otherwise he might begin to suspect that someone had polyjuiced themselves to impersonate the severe woman.

ooOoo

“At least you’ll get them both done around the same time,” Harry offered after Draco told him about his two, upcoming meetings that would be taking place in just a few days’ time. “Check that off the list as the end of the year approaches. You know it flies once June hits.”

“I know,” the pale blonde nodded, “This whole year has flown. It’s been crazy at certain points, but really, really good on the whole.”

“You’ll go home for a bit in between terms, yeah?”

“Yes, I need to meet with Hemmings again. Not for anything related to the will,” he added quickly, seeing the shocked concern on Harry’s face, “I’ve asked him if we could just start meeting twice a year – in the summer, and around the holidays. That works best for my schedule this coming year, but I have a feeling it will be the easiest time to schedule extra things once I officially start at Gringotts anyway.”

“Any particular reason?” Harry was curious.

“Owls and floo-calls are fine, but it’s nice to sit down face-to-face to go over everything. Obviously he can still contact me anytime something major happens, but I figured six months was a good length of time to review problems, growth, ideas, partnerships, etcetera. The businesses I’m associated with basically run themselves, so it’s really just an overview.”

“Makes sense,” green eyes narrowed in scrutiny, “Any other plans for the summer hols?”

“Perhaps,” Draco tried to adopt an air of aloof carelessness, but he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face and Harry smirked widely in response.

“How’s that coming along?”

“Getting there. I’m pretty sure I’m set on the date and location, and the plan to get her there without it seeming odd. I still need to pick out a ring…” he trailed off as his family’s vault materialized in his mind’s eye. “I’m not sure there’s anything I’d choose for her from the heirloom collection, but I feel like I need to go look, just to say I did,” he shrugged, “I’ll need you to escort me.”

“That’s fine,” Harry nodded, “Just let me know when you want to go and I’ll set it up. I’ve had to work a couple of Saturdays lately, so it wouldn’t seem odd for me not to be home if that’s the best time for you to go.”

“It might be, especially seeing as now I’ve got these meetings coming up during work hours.”

“If you don’t find anything in your massive treasure trove,” Harry rolled his eyes and Draco snorted at his description, “Do you know where you want to go instead?”

“Yes, there’s a jeweler in Diagon who has created pieces for my mother before and does excellent work.”

“Alright then, that’s settled,” Harry grinned and his former rival huffed a laugh, both excited for things to come.

ooOoo

“Will you still be here next year, Coach Malfoy?” Olivia asked him after practice, and a few of the other Gryffindor team members paused to hear his response. He realized he hadn’t made an official announcement yet about his plans for the following year, and decided now was as good a time as any.

“Yes, actually, I will be,” he said with a smile, though the last bit of his answer was drowned out by the cheering and hollering that erupted from the scarlet and gold clan. His younger self would have been mortified, but the warmth that spread throughout his chest at their response brought nothing but pure joy.

“Is Professor Weasley leaving?” the curious chaser asked.

“No, I won’t actually be teaching Defense again. I’ll just be the Flying Instructor.”

Sounds of complaint and confusion arose and he held up a hand to staunch the barrage of questions he knew was about to be launched at him.

“I’m going to spend part of my week training to be a Curse Breaker at Gringotts, and part of my week here, as the Flying Instructor and referee for practices and matches.”

This got their attention and it was obvious the younger crew was impressed and curious about his new career path as speculations were tossed out regarding what all that would mean.

“You’ll still live here, at the school?” Andrew asked, a serious look on his face.

“Yes, the Headmistress has arranged it so I can stay here and just floo to Gringotts on the days I’m to report there,” Draco offered and felt a surge of fondness for the young man whose expression had turned to one of delight at the news.

“So, we’ll still see you around,” he confirmed.

“Yes, most definitely,” Draco nodded, smiling broadly.

As he herded the team back up towards the castle, he fielded questions about why he wanted to be a Curse Breaker, and what kinds of dark objects he might get to work with. One of the older players, a Sixth Year named Juliet, asked if maybe he could come back to their Defense class as a guest speaker and give them tasks like he often did for their lessons.

“I’m sure Professor Weasley will continue to provide hands-on opportunities,” the tall blonde assured her, “After all, he’s the one who started that trend when I was still his student.”

“Yes, but your lessons were more exciting,” Juliet insisted, and he bit back a laugh.

“Well, don’t tell Professor Weasley that,” he warned her teasingly, “You know he and I planned those all out together.” The girl simply huffed and rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she ran to catch up with one of her friends. He truly did enjoy working with students, and he knew he would miss being in the Defense classroom next term, but he was also quite certain he wasn’t ready to teach full-time. There was too much he wanted to learn and experience out there; too much he needed to see for himself outside the walls of the ancient school. He was immensely grateful for the opportunity he’d been given to join the staff this current year and the next, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous of Hermione and her recent forays out into the wider Wizarding world. He even envied Potter when the humble hero shared stories about his Auror duties – going on stake-outs, planning missions, apprehending bad guys. It all seemed loads more exciting than correcting essays or trying to help First Years mount a broom.

He laughed inwardly. Oh, how the tides had changed. Growing up, it had been ingrained in him that once he was of age and had finished his schooling, he would come alongside his father and oversee the family business ventures. Basically, he came to learn, all that meant was enduring several boring meetings each year, signing random documents, and making sure the gold in the Malfoy vaults only increased. All of which could be done from the comfort of his home, behind a massive desk, where a House Elf brought him tumblers of whiskey and the latest edition of the _Prophet_. He’d been raised to view a life like that as privileged, lucky, and better, but all he saw it as now was lazy, boring, and worthless.

No, Draco Malfoy was not going to follow in his father’s footsteps. Not in his archaic ideologies, not in his stuffy, posh lifestyle, not in his self-serving endeavors, none of it. He wanted to do some good in the world, and wanted to experience life outside the confines of the narrow-minded aristocracy he’d been born into. He wanted to share his hopes and dreams with the witch he loved, and build a life together that he could be proud of. Being here, at Hogwarts, had been the first step in that direction, and his training at Gringotts would be the next. Even though he hadn’t started the upcoming leg of his journey, he still felt a deep sense of accomplishment in knowing it was just around the next corner.

This feeling of purpose and certainty in his future continued throughout the weekend and into the beginning of the second week of May, when he was to meet with Carson. He was up earlier than usual on Monday morning, a combination of excitement and nerves rushing through his veins as he dressed in his staff uniform and headed to breakfast. Neville gave him a bolstering smile as he sat down to breakfast, the friendly herbologist being the only other faculty member Draco had told about these upcoming meetings and plans. He wasn’t keeping anything a secret, but preferred to make it known to the others once he had more details and could answer the questions he knew would be thrown his way. He’d already seen it happen to Marcus, who was almost done with his second and final year of apprenticeship under Professor Sinistra, and was still ironing out his plans for the following year. The poor bloke simply mentioned one night at dinner that he’d applied for a teaching post at Ilvermorny and was immediately inundated with queries he couldn’t even begin to answer about the American school, its pay-grade, staff accommodations, class sizes, proximity to a Muggle city, student population, and dress code. If Marcus said “I don’t know,” once, he said it two dozen times in the span of half an hour, and looked thoroughly exhausted and annoyed by the time everyone left the table. Draco had no desire to endure the same thing.

Having been cleared of his teaching duties until after lunch, he left breakfast and set off at once for McGonagall’s office, where Carson was to arrive shortly. The Headmistress was still at breakfast, but the door opened as he approached, and he sank into one of the chairs in front of the large, constantly-cluttered desk to wait. Only a handful of minutes passed before the floo roared to life, and before Draco could even take the four or five steps required to get over there, the door opened and the elderly witch stepped through at the moment Carson emerged from the hearth.

Draco nodded at his employer as he extended a hand to the wiry Curse Breaker with a welcoming smile, “Carson, good to see you again.”

“You too, Draco,” the older man grinned and clasped his hand firmly before turning his attention to their host, “And Headmistress McGonagall, it is a pleasure to meet you in person.” He shook her hand as well, and she greeted him in return, inviting both young men to sit in the chairs the Flying Instructor had just vacated.

After the usual pleasantries were exchanged, McGonagall got down to the business at hand, “Mister Carson, for the sake of clarification, could you go over the schedule you expect Coach Malfoy to keep? Days of the week, hours, time that might need to be devoted to his training even while he is back on school grounds?”

“Of course, happy to,” Carson’s level of energy had not been dimmed in the months since Draco had last seen him, and he inched himself to the edge of his seat as if ready to spring into action while he spoke. “Normally, Gringotts would simply assign a new trainee to a veteran Breaker for a course of instruction that would mirror a typical, on-site work week. Five days a week, eight or nine hours a day. Unfortunately, as I have mentioned previously, we have almost two-thirds of our team out on assignment at the moment, and that doesn’t look like it will change anytime soon.”

He had been including both members of his audience in his explanation, his gaze flickering between Draco and McGonagall as he spoke, but here he focused solely on the former as he shared the next bit.

“Galini and her team have just uncovered something that, if it proves to be what they think it is, would be one of the biggest, most important finds in decades,” he was beaming as he spoke and Draco could almost feel the anticipation rolling off him. He cocked a pale brow in question, but Carson shook his head before he could voice his question, “We’re not supposed to say anything, in case it’s not what we’re hoping, but I’ll give you a hint.” He dropped his voice to a loud whisper, “Think Queen of the Nile, yeah?”

Draco’s eyes widened, and he noticed the Headmistress’ jaw dropped for a split second before she recomposed herself to her normal, unreactive stature.

“So,” Carson continued in a normal volume, “Since I will still need to be available for ongoing projects in the vault, I’ve worked it out with two of my top Breakers to split the duties on the days you come in. There might be times when I’ll still have to handle something, but that will just be part of your hands-on experience.” He winked at the younger wizard who stifled a snort of amusement at the entirely casual way his soon-to-be supervisor treated the idea of working with cursed, dark, and often dangerous objects. “If it is acceptable to you,” Carson addressed McGonagall now, “I would like for Draco to spent Mondays and Tuesdays at Gringotts from nine o’clock in the morning until five o’clock at night, and Wednesdays from nine o’clock until one o’clock, with the exception of the last Wednesday of every month, when I would like for him to stay until five on that night, as well.”

McGonagall wrote down everything the sandy-haired wizard said, reread it when he was finished, nodded once at the parchment and then looked up at him again, “Yes, that will be perfectly fine. I have been reworking our class schedule so that all of Coach Malfoy’s flying lessons will take place on Thursdays and Fridays, and as none of the house teams meet for practice before supper is served, he will be back in time for those, even if he has been in training all day.” She paused and glanced back down at the paper, scribbled a note to herself and then posed another question, “Will there be tasks or work or responsibilities Coach Malfoy will need to take care of for you outside the hours he keeps at Gringotts? For example, will we need to make sure he does not have patrol duties or staff meetings on any specific evenings?”

Carson thought about this for a second before shaking his head, “No, I don’t believe so. He’ll have a bit of reading to do; I’ve got several books on curse breaking and working with dark artifacts that will be useful for him to go over, but nothing that would take an inordinate amount of time. Nothing that should interfere with his other responsibilities as a member of your faculty.”

McGonagall looked right pleased with that bit of information and Draco could have sworn her lip twitched, as if she was trying not to smile. As usual, however, she simply nodded curtly and thanked Carson for the information.

“I assume there are other aspects of the position you would like to speak to Coach Malfoy about that are unrelated to his role here, so I will leave you to do so,” her tone was perfunctory, but kind, and she stood from her desk and swept out the door before the two young men could do more than stand up as she exited.

“Is she always like that?” the genial Curse Breaker asked, eyes round with astonishment.

“Yes, pretty much,” Draco chuckled, “This was McGonagall in as close to what I would call a good mood as possible. Bill wasn’t kidding last year when he said you wouldn’t want to see her in a right state.”

Carson whistled lowly, “I bet not.” He shifted in his seat so he was more fully facing his companion, “There are a couple of things I should run by you, but it honestly won’t take very long. If you have any questions, perhaps we could start with those?”

The younger man considered this, not really having much to ask since he knew the bulk of his training would be based on whatever artifacts and objects were on hand while he was in the vault. Having spent the past year helping teach Defense classes, he really didn’t have any need for information on that topic either.

“Honestly, the questions I had were basically answered in our earlier correspondence, and just reiterated today for McGonagall,” Draco shrugged, “The logistics are already sorted, my hours set, and since I had a first-hand look at the vault last year, I’m not sure what else to ask about.”

“True,” Carson mused, “Well, then I have a question of my own… actually more of a request.”

“Alright,” Draco was bemused. What could Carson possibly need from him at this time?

“Would you be up for giving me a tour of Hogwarts?” a mischievous glint appeared in Carson’s eye, “I’ve never been here before, though I’ve heard a million stories and have even read _Hogwarts: A History_ , and I’m extremely curious to see if it lives up to my imagination.”

“You’ve not been here? Ever?” Draco was shocked. “Where’d you go to school then?”

“Well, up until I was fourteen, my family lived in a remote village in the southern part of Argentina. My father was a magical Anthropologist and a self-taught Curse Breaker. We actually lived in several different parts of South America throughout my childhood, but lived just south of Rio Gallegos from the time I was about ten until I was almost fifteen. During the entire time, my siblings and I were homeschooled, but then we moved back to Europe and I wound up at Durmstrang for three years.”

“Really?” Draco could hardly reconcile what he knew of the foreign school of magic – cold, severe, heavy into the Dark Arts (at least in recent years), and nothing like the friendly, personable man seated beside him.

“It was interesting, to say the least,” Carson snickered, “I was a bit of an oddity to the other students, most of whom had grown up in the surrounding region and spoke with thick accents, and knew all the local traditions and stories and whatnot. It wasn’t my mother’s first choice for us to attend there, but since my father had taken on a position as a translator and archivist for the Russian Ministry of Magic,” he splayed his hands out as if to say “ _what else was there to do?_ ” and Draco nodded in understanding.

“Let’s get going then, shall we?” the younger wizard stood and gestured to the door, happy to play tour guide for the rest of the morning.

They wandered the quiet, mostly-empty halls, since classes were in session, and Draco made sure to point out all the most famous aspects of the ancient school: the shifting staircases, the hourglasses that tallied house points, the Great Hall, the library, the Room of Requirement, the greenhouses, the Quidditch pitch, the Black Lake, and even (from a distance), the Forbidden Forest. Carson was a rapt audience, exclaiming over things the recent graduate was so familiar with he took them for granted, like the ghosts that roamed the halls, and the portraits that interacted with everyone who happened to walk by.

“Amazing. Truly amazing,” Carson beamed as they trudged back up the stairs to their final stop – Draco’s apartment – where they would have lunch before the Curse Breaker needed to return to London. Upon entering the small yet comfortable quarters, Draco was pleased to find the House Elves had already delivered their meal and it was set out quite invitingly on his kitchen table. While he busied himself getting drinks poured, his guest perused his bookshelves at the other end of the room.

“This is a great photo of you lot,” Carson pointed to the picture of all the Eighth Years in the large frame on one of the shelves. “I got the impression you were a pretty tight bunch last Spring, and that everyone got on rather well.”

“We did,” Draco nodded, walking over to join him and smiling at the picture as the loop played over and over, showing them in a moment of friendly, silly antics. “We still are. We meet once a month, usually here, for a whole weekend that centers around a Game Night.”

“That’s terrific,” the energetic wizard mused almost wistfully, “I made a few friends at Durmstrang, and I get along fine with everyone on my team, but I can’t say I’ve got anyone I’d consider _close_.” He pinned his host with a thoughtful look, “You’re lucky to have each other.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Draco agreed wholeheartedly, “I’m ashamed to admit it took a brutal and entirely unnecessary war for me to learn what’s truly important in this life, but I’m incredibly thankful I did.”

Carson nodded, clearly pondering Draco’s words as the latter indicated lunch was ready and they settled in to enjoy the always-delicious spread sent up from the kitchens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laying more groundwork for things to come for our favorite Slytherin! I'm so excited about what's in store for Draco, not just in his relationship with Hermione, but in his life in general. I've read a lot of comments lately on other platforms about how Draco would never be remorseful or ashamed of his previous acts, nor would he ever shift away from his arrogant, prejudiced mindset, and that just makes me really sad. Not so much for Draco (who is an extremely beloved yet wholly fictional character), but for people who truly believe others can't change. Or, even more importantly, who aren't willing to give them the chance. I don't think anyone in their adult years is the same as they were as a teenager, nor do I believe anyone who endures the kind of trauma and tragedy these characters did (war, violence, loss, abuse, etc.) would emerge on the other side unscathed or unchanged. There is always room for growth, for a shift in beliefs or ideals, for personal betterment, and to say that it would "never" happen is stubbornly pessimistic and, quite honestly, ignorant. None of us has the right to determine what someone else is capable of.   
> Ok, I'll get off my soapbox now ;) I know I'm preaching to the choir since y'all wouldn't be reading this if you weren't Dramione fans, but those are my thoughts nonetheless.   
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope this Monday brings good things your way <3


	82. Not the Last Hurrah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eighth Years have their second-to-last Game Night of the year, where updates are given and plans are made.

The Eighth Years came together for their May Game Night with even greater excitement and enthusiasm than usual (which was saying something). It was the first time they’d all be with one another since Theo and Luna’s wedding in April, and there was much news for everyone to get caught up on. Friday’s dinner started earlier and lasted longer than any previous ones, and each of the young adults was given a chance to update the group on whatever pertinent information they felt like sharing.

Draco told them all about his recent staff evaluation, which had gone extremely well and left him feeling mildly guilty that he planned to leave Hogwarts after the coming year, so complimentary had McGonagall been to him. He also gave more details about his training with Carson, now that he had a better handle on what exactly that all would entail.

Theo and Luna thanked their friends again for everything they had done to make their wedding a beautiful and poignant day, and filled them in on the latest changes to the _Quibbler_ , reports from Xeno as he continued his travels, and funny stories about the overly-friendly Fire Crab they’d recently acquired, who seemed wholly unaware of his ability to set random things aflame when he got too excited.

“Yes, Dante loves attention, and is a lot like a Crup in personality,” Luna explained in her dreamy way, “We’ve taught him to go after a ball, and he likes to chase the Gnomes around, but we’ve had to put fire repelling charms all over the back garden when he’s playing out there. He just about set the whole thing on fire last week.”

Theo grunted in response and rolled his eyes, clearly not finding the creature’s antics anywhere near as amusing as his new wife did, “Yeah, so glad all we lost was a lounge chair, a Flutterby bush, and my second best pair of trousers.”

“Well, Theo, I did tell you not to leave them out there, and you promised you’d go back and get them after…” Luna’s words were cut off by several loud coughs and much throat clearing, and Theo turning beet red flapping his hands as if to bat away the conversation entirely.

“Yes, well, I forgot,” he hollered, and everyone burst out laughing. “Got a little distracted, you know.” Even embarrassed, he still managed to waggle his eyebrows suggestively at his friends as he pulled the ethereal blonde close to his side and kissed the top of her head.

Conversation continued with Daphne showing them sketches of a few new designs, and Anthony told them all about a new system he’d been slowly implementing in the Ministry Archives – one that made it much easier to find what you were looking for.

“Up till now,” the former Ravenclaw explained enthusiastically, “You could summon resources, sure, but it was all rather vague and you wound up with a lot you didn’t need. Now, I’ve got it fixed so you can be much more specific.” He turned to Hermione as he went on, “Remember how huge the stack of outdated scrolls was when we were looking for answers about Lucius’ will?” She nodded, her mind conjuring the image of almost one hundred useless articles they’d had to sort through. “The system I’ve devised would have eliminated that completely and allowed us to focus on particular terminology instead of just general terms. For example, instead of saying “contested wills” or “binding contracts,” I can actually ask for “successfully contested wills about marriage contracts.”

Impressed murmurs and congratulatory sentiments rose up and Anthony looked very pleased with himself. In turn, Padma shared news of a bit of a promotion at her job with the newspaper, and Hannah announced plans to start implementing Muggle drinks to the selection available at the Leaky.

“Ooh, that’ll be a right good time, that will,” Dean grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, Firewhiskey and Butterbeer are good and all, but there’s a lot more out there and the combination possibilities are endless. Any of you ever have a daiquiri? Or a margarita?” Eight heads shook in the negative, Hermione being the only one to nod in confirmation. “Well, you’re in for a treat if Hannah starts mixing those up,” he gave an encouraging thumbs up to the sweet Hufflepuff who looked immensely happy with the way her idea had been received.

More talk circled around about how everyone had spent the Easter hols, and what they had done for the two year memorial. Kingsley had decided against another formal service, saying he wanted people to remember the Battle, and honor those who had fallen, but also to keep moving forward and striving for a better future. He felt that expecting people to gather back at the site repeatedly stunted that progress to some extent. He had given a written address in the paper, accompanied by a picture of Hogwarts, and had encouraged the people of Wizarding Britain to spend at least a portion of that day doing something meaningful; whether that meant visiting the graves of those lost, or spending time with family and friends, or volunteering with one of the many post-war charity organizations.

Since it had fallen on a week day, lessons were held at the school as usual, though every teacher spent at least a few minutes sharing a story from that life-changing day. The faculty had met a few days before to coordinate their plan, with each professor choosing a different person to memorialize. Neville and Professor Sprout had told their students about Remus and Tonks, while Bill spoke about Fred, which led to Draco explaining his idea about the portraits and the story of Colin Creevey. In every instance, the staff made sure to end on a thoughtful, positive note, encouraging their young charges to seek light, to offer kindness, and to never be afraid to stand up for what is right. Draco had been emotionally drained by the end of the day, having retold the story five times by the time the last class filed out of the room, but he’d also been surprisingly uplifted by the students’ response and the feeling of hope that filled the ancient stone structure.

After looking back at the past few weeks, the housemates started discussing plans for the upcoming months, particularly once the school term ended.

“Exams finish on Friday, June twenty-third,” Neville provided, “and students will leave after breakfast on the twenty-fourth. Staff is expected to stay until Sunday to make sure everything is in order for the Summer.”

“Will we do our Game Night the weekend before? The sixteenth?” Padma asked, “Or will that be difficult with students cramming for exams?”

“It won’t affect us, I don’t think,” Draco glanced at his coworker for confirmation and Neville nodded, “But I’m not sure our Seconds will be able to meet.”

“We can ask them when we see them Sunday,” Hermione suggested, and everyone decided that was a good idea.

“Speaking of, what are we doing with them this time?” Daphne was curious.

“We’re having a picnic,” Dean beamed at everyone, “Down by the lake. I’ve already checked with the House Elves and they’re going to set up all the food and everything at one o’clock that afternoon.”

“Perfect!” Luna trilled, and everyone else agreed.

“Now, as far as our plans for the weekend go,” Dean looked positively giddy as he surveyed his friends, “I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you lot. I wanted to introduce you to a whole new kind of game, but we’ll have to take turns, so I didn’t know if you’d be up for starting tonight?” He cast a hopeful glance around and was met with vigorous nods and matching grins, “Alright, then. Tonight can be a tutorial of sorts, and then tomorrow you can all play for real.” With that, the dark-skinned Gryffindor pushed back from the table and strode over towards the sitting area where he stopped in front of the fireplace and waved his wand in the direction of his room.

Multiple objects came soaring towards him. Some, like the telly, were recognizable to everyone, but others, like a box with wires and small white things attached at the ends, were not. Hermione gasped when she saw the odd assortment, but the rest of the housemates simply stared in bemusement as Dean brought everything to a midair halt right next to him. He began setting it all where he wanted it, explaining as he went.

“So, this is a telly, yeah?” he stuck it in its usual place on the mantle, “and this is what’s called a PlayStation. It’s a video game console.” Murmurs of understanding and surprise were heard, and the enthusiastic Gryffindor met those with a handful of flat, colorful rectangles. “These are some of the games you can play on it,” he fanned them out on the coffee table so everyone could see the images of race cars, a blonde man with a very large sword, a pair of what looked vaguely like some sort of rodent, and a couple of football players.

“It’s similar to a movie, where you put the dvd in and watch. With this, you put the game disc in and play, using these controllers,” Dean held up one of the funnily-shaped things attached to the wires, and they could all see that it had tiny buttons; some with shapes on them in different colors, others grouped together. “Have any of you ever seen one of these before? Or played on it?”

Hermione admitted to knowing what it was, but surprised everyone by saying she’d never actually tried it out before. Hannah was pretty sure one of her cousins had something similar, but again, had never played.

“S’alright,” Dean grinned, “We’ll just start from the beginning.” With that, he was off. The next hour was spent with nine young adults focusing their full attention on the screen in front of them, and their fearless leader. The avid sports fan had chosen the football game to demonstrate with, taking things very slowly and playing (at first) rather horribly simply so they could see how the buttons he chose to push moved his character around on the animated pitch. After a few rounds of increasingly faster and more fluid movements, he offered the second controller up for a try.

“I’ll give it a go,” Draco almost jumped out of his seat, feeling like this might just be the best option for him with his recent jaunt into the world of Muggle football.

“Good on ya, mate,” Dean grinned encouragingly, “Put your newfound knowledge to good use, yeah?” The pair of wizards had engaged in a lively chat about Draco’s trip to Wembley over dinner, and even though Manchester wasn’t the Halfblood’s favorite, he could still appreciate the team’s skill.

The game was restarted, and with a quick review of the controller, they got right to it. Dean did his best to help Draco, giving hints and instructions as they went, but it was a hilarious failure.

“The ‘x,’ hit the ‘x,’ now!”

“I am! He’s not… why is he running the wrong way?”

“Use your left thumb… your other left!”

“Oooh! Sorry! Didn’t mean to knock him over!”

“You don’t need to move the whole thing – it’s not a steering wheel.”

“I can’t help it!”

“Kick it! Kiiiiiick iiiiit!”

“How? I can’t stop jumping!”

While Draco and Dean were in an epically confusing exchange, the rest of the Eighth Years were howling with laughter. The combination of Draco’s spastic movements and complete inability to properly control his player, and Dean’s bellowed commands, had everyone in stitches. When the tall blonde sent the ball towards the wrong goal for the fourth time, the game was paused.

Flinging himself down on the couch next to Hermione, Draco whinged, “Oh, that was rubbish. I’m absolute pants at these veedoo games.”

“Vi-de-o, love, and it was your first time. I’m sure you’ll get better with practice,” the petite brunette said bracingly, patting him on the knee, “Can’t be perfect at everything.” She smirked and kissed him on the cheek as he huffed in exasperation.

“Show us the driving one. I want to try that,” Theo insisted and Dean acquiesced with a nod and a wide grin. And so the evening continued, with the dark-skinned wizard demonstrating how each game worked, and giving anyone who wanted to try a turn. By the end of the night, everyone had taken at least one pass at something, and most were equally awful. Draco was even able to find a bit of solace in his original, abysmal attempt.

“At least I didn’t lose my character entirely,” he snarked at Neville, who had been trying his hand at the cartoon game and had somehow run his bandicoot right off the screen. Dean said it was a glitch, and after resetting the console, it was fine, but Draco wasn’t about to let the moment pass without giving his fellow staff member a hard time. As always, Neville took it in genial stride and just smirked at his former enemy.

“Yeah, but I _was_ going in the right direction, soooo, there’s that.”

“Oooooh, Draco, he got youuuu,” Daphne sing-songed from her perch on the other couch, earning a pillow zooming at her face, which she caught with a laugh.

“So, tomorrow,” Dean spoke up as the night wound down, “I was thinking we could do a bit of a competition, seeing as we’ve only got one more Game Night, and that’s when this year’s winner will be declared.”

“But how’s that fair? You’re like a professional at this,” Padma waved her arm at the games and controllers, obviously worried by her friend’s impressive skill level.

“Oh, I won’t be part of the points,” he offered genially, “I’m not bothered. But the rest of you lot are on a pretty even playing field, so it’s really anyone’s prize for the taking.” He chuckled, “I’ll just stand on the sidelines and try to help if I can.”

This was deemed acceptable by all, and the eleven o’clock hour was chosen as a suitable starting time the next morning, after everyone had enjoyed a bit of a lie-in and a hearty breakfast.

As was tradition, Draco walked Hermione to her room where he fully engulfed her in a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of her neck and sighing contentedly.

“I have missed you,” he muttered into her curls.

“You literally saw me a week ago when Harry and I brought Philippe,” she teased, though she burrowed further into him all the same, enjoying the feel of being in his arms again.

“Yes, for all of two hours, most of which was shared in the company of Potter and Hagrid – not that I don’t like them both very much, but it’s not like we were alone.”

She giggled lightly and grazed her fingers across the back of his neck, eliciting a hum of pleasure, before turning her face as much as possible to press a kiss to his jaw.

“Well, we’ve got this weekend to catch up, and again next month, and then it’s the summer hols and you’ll be at the Manor for weeks on end, and I’ll be able to visit you whenever you want.”

“Which will be always, all the time, every of the times,” he insisted in a petulant tone as he squeezed her once before pulling back just enough to meet her warm, chocolate gaze. “Could you not just move into the Manor for the whole nine weeks? Mother and Andromeda would love it, and Teddy would be thrilled.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I think that might be pushing the limits of your probation, and Narcissa’s. Technically, she’s not supposed to have guests on the regular, even if it is just me.”

“What do you mean _just you_? You’re the Golden Girl! I’m pretty sure the Minister would let you do whatever you wanted,” he retorted jokingly, though he sighed theatrically and rolled his eyes a second later. “You’re probably right, though, as much as I hate to say it. You know I’d never do anything to cause trouble for my mother – she’s been through more than enough as it is.” He pulled her close again and rested his chin on the top of her head, “Guess I’ll have to make do with seeing you only a handful of times, but you have to stay for longer than a day.”

She nodded in agreement, “I can do that. I can plan to spend at least one weekend in July and one in August out there. And perhaps Harry can arrange for you to come to Grimmauld for a visit at some point, too.”

“Sounds good,” he pressed a kiss to her curls, then one to her forehead, then to each cheek, before finally landing on her lips, which he found were eager to make the connection and they lost themselves in a blissful bit of snogging for several beats. At one point, Hermione broke away and tried to stifle a massive yawn, but it only caused Draco to mirror the action and they both sniggered.

“We should get to bed,” she reluctantly stated, “Big day of video gaming tomorrow.”

“Mmmm, perhaps some sleep will improve my coordination,” he huffed, “That was right bollocks, that was.”

Laughing outright, she looped her arms around his waist and hugged him again, “Well, you can’t be tops at everything the first go ‘round, dearest.”

“Like you would know anything about that,” he snarked, earning himself a poke in the ribs that jolted him and made him yelp. “Ah! Don’t _do_ that!”

“You deserved it,” she sniffed disdainfully, “You know all too well that I am _not_ perfect, nor have I ever claimed to be.”

“Well, you are perfect for me,” he flashed his most winningest smile and swooped in to kiss her one more time before finally saying goodnight and heading across the Room to his own chambers.

ooOoo

As expected, everyone brought their own unique style and abilities to the proverbial gaming table the next day. Though Draco hadn’t had much luck with the _FIFA_ game, he did extremely well in _Final Fantasy_ , impressing even Dean with his sword-fighting skills, and did passably with _Crash Bandicoot_. _Gran Turismo_ was a bit of a bust, and the tall blonde blamed that on the fact that he’d never even ridden in a car, much less drove one before. However, Theo, who could claim the same lack of experience, seemed to have an innate talent for the racing simulation, and quickly racked up the highest scores out of all the games and all the housemates.

Anthony was decent at all four, to no one’s great surprise, but so were Padma and Daphne, much to their own delight. The pretty former Slytherin got utterly entrenched in her mission and rather attached to the original character, Cid, to the point where she was thoroughly irritated when her own avatar suffered severe amnesia, and worried if she’d ever remember him again.

“It’s just a game, Daph,” Dean reminded her and she huffed in response as she flopped back onto the couch.

“Yes, but I wanted to finish the quest with him,” she pouted comically and Padma, who was next to her, patted her shoulder in consolation.

“I totally get it,” the raven-haired witch nodded emphatically, “I was just about to ride a Chocobo and get to the next level. Totally annoying.”

Neville wasn’t particularly great at any of the games, but got very excited anytime he managed to do just about anything, and was hopping around in a victorious circle, arms in the air as the screen flashed in front of him.

“Umm, what’s happening?” Hannah asked.

“I don’t know, but I pushed these buttons and there was something like an explosion, and now it’s doing that,” Neville gestured to the blaring telly.

“Nev, you died, mate,” Dean chuckled, “That’s what that giant, red ‘x’ means.”

“What? No!” Neville gaped at the controller in his hand, then the screen that did, indeed, contain a menacing looking letter, and finally at his fellow Gryffindor who was trying not to laugh at the whole thing. The sandy-haired herbologist shrugged and sighed, “I’ll try again later.”

Hermione had only attempted one round with the Australian mammals before throwing her hands up in utter frustration, and Luna had been far more concerned with the possible storylines in each game than she was with actually playing any of them.

“I mean, why would Doctor Cortex want to hurt Crash? He’s the one who created him in the first place!” the sweet-natured witch was wide-eyed with concern for the animated character, “I bet he’s suffering from a massive Wrackspurt infestation.”

“Yes, love, I’m sure he is,” Theo wrapped both of his arms around her and tugged her into his side, pressing several kisses to her temple as she continued to look worriedly at the screen.

The rest of Saturday continued in similar vein, with everyone sprawled about the common area, playing another round of video games, watching their friends play, chatting about everything and nothing, and breaking only for something to eat or to stretch their legs with a walk to the loo. It’s was easily the laziest day any of them had taken in ages, and they were all ridiculously happy about it.

“I’ve done absolutely nothing, and yet I feel like I could fall asleep right here,” Padma yawned behind one hand while gesturing to the overstuffed chair she was curled up in at the moment.

“I know. I didn’t even have a particularly busy week or anything, and yet I’m wiped,” Anthony agreed from his prone position on the rug, a pillow tucked under his head as he watched Theo race again.

“I think it’s safe to say I’ve already hit my prime and am currently on the downhill slope,” Draco complained, “Not even twenty years old and the thought of staying up past eleven o’clock on a weeknight sends me into a panic.”

Neville snorted from across the way, “Right? On Thursday, a group of my advanced Herbology students asked if they could come down to Greenhouse Five at midnight to see the moonflowers blossom and my immediate reaction was to remind them how late that was.” Everyone snickered as he continued, “Of course, I let them and met them there to oversee it, but I was dragging on Friday morning, even after two cups of coffee and half a bar of Honeyduke’s chocolate.”

“I don’t mind staying up late,” Daphne piped up, “But I have definitely found myself doing and saying and thinking things that make me feel older. Like earlier this month, I received several packages at the shop and after I sorted them all and put everything away, I was getting ready to vanish the boxes when I stopped to look at one in particular and thought _that’s a really nice box – I should keep it – I might need it for something_. Who does that? Besides my Great-Aunt Annabelle, I mean?”

“Ah, yes, but do you have a collection of shopping bags?” Hannah inquired, “Because I do! I have developed this random inability to get rid of nice shopping bags – like, if they’re a good size and have a pretty logo on the front or what have you, I can’t seem to part with them. I now have a large bag full of bags in my closet. It’s ridiculous!”

“Well, I’ve adopted my step-father’s habit of keeping every issue of the Prophet,” Dean added his two knuts. “At first, I just kept the sports section, and only if it featured something pertinent to my role in the department. Now? I finish reading it, fold it, and place it in the growing stack next to the fireplace. It’s easily up to my knees by now, and Seamus even went and got a crate to put them in so they wouldn’t fall over. Every time I think about getting rid of the whole lot, I worry I’ll need something in one of them. Barmy, I tell you.”

The ten friends laughed in commiserating amusement, all of them having experienced similar moments over the past year as they adjusted to life in the real world, where schedules and jobs and responsibilities took the place of their more carefree school days. All in all, however, none of them had any real complaints. Everyone had solid, respectable, and enjoyable occupations, comfortable places to live, a wealth of friends, most of them were in established relationships, while the others (Dean), were enjoying the single life, and one wedding had even already taken place. Yes, life was treating the recent graduates quite well indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolute trash at video games - something my kids remind me of anytime I try to play one. Lol. I hope this week is finishing up on a good note for all my wonderful readers. Thanks again for joining me on here! <3


	83. Reticent Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony shares an update, Allison admits guilt, and Draco fills his boss in on some plans.

“Anthony, you haven’t mentioned Tracey recently,” Padma seemed to realize this suddenly at breakfast on Sunday morning, “Are you still together?”

“Ummm, I don’t think so,” her fellow former Ravenclaw looked mildly discomfited.

“What do you mean you don’t think so?” Neville was thoroughly bemused, “Don’t you work together?”

Anthony nodded, his brow furrowed, “Yes, we do, and it’s been a bit awkward lately, to be honest.” No one knew quite what to say to this, so a heavy silence lingered for several seconds as the intelligent wizard collected his thoughts and decided how best to explain his predicament. “You see, we were getting on just fine, or at least I thought we were, and I even brought her to Harry’s New Year’s party, yeah?” Everyone nodded, remembering the night in question and the sight of the pretty witch by their friend’s side. “It was all good for another two months, and then in March she started getting… odd. We had a standing date on Friday nights at the Leaky, and one week she just didn’t show. I hung around for a couple of hours, and then gave it up and went home. Owled her the next morning, thinking maybe something had happened, and didn’t hear back till Sunday afternoon when she replied saying she was sorry, but that she’d had other plans.”

He heaved an irritated sigh and glared at his half-finished plate of eggs and bacon, “Other plans that she couldn’t have mentioned at any point during the eight hours we worked together that day? I guess I should’ve known something was up when she disappeared before I finished reshelving a whole stack of scrolls on the Goblin Rebellion. Usually we’d walk out together and say ‘see you in a mo,’ and go on.” He waved his hand as if brushing away that inconsequential part of the story. “I let it go, figured it wasn’t worth getting all in a nit about, and Monday at work it was like things were back to normal. The whole week was fine, but I made a point of asking her that Friday at lunch if she was meeting me at the Leaky and she got real shifty.”

“She wasn’t seeing someone else, was she?” Daphne gasped, dismayed by the conclusion she’d drawn; one that was only confirmed by Anthony’s wide-eyed stare.

“How’d you know?” he asked, stunned.

“Just a guess, but that’s the only reason I could think of that she’d give you the brush off and not explain it,” the elegant witch shrugged with a grimace.

“Well, you’re right. Turns out she’d been spending time with some bloke from the DMLE the last three weeks, but the first two times had been on Saturday, so it hadn’t interfered with our regular plans. Told her I thought we were exclusive, and she got mad, saying we never specifically talked about that,” he rolled his eyes and huffed, “I didn’t realize I had to spell it out, but it doesn’t matter now. She did meet me that night, and the Friday after, but the whole month of April was a wash.”

“So, you haven’t been out together in over a month, but she, what, still treats you like you’re her boyfriend at work?” Theo was appalled on behalf of the other wizard.

Anthony shrugged, “I mean, it’s just the two of us down in the Archives, plus Warlock O’Dair, but he stays shut up in his office all day, so we spend pretty much the whole time, including lunch, together. We just don’t see each other outside of work anymore…” He trailed off, looking both sheepish and annoyed and gave voice to his thoughts a beat later, “That sounds mental, doesn’t it?”

No one wanted to make him feel any worse than he obviously already did, but nine heads still tentatively nodded in agreement with his statement.

“You deserve better than that, Anthony,” Hermione said quietly, “Much better.” Similar sentiments were echoed around the room and the wizard looked at all of them, grateful for their bolstering support.

“I’m putting a stop to it first thing tomorrow,” he announced firmly, “No sense wasting my time with a witch who can’t make up her mind. Though, I suppose work will be a little less enjoyable when there’s no snogging in the stacks.” He flashed a rakish grin and winked, earning himself wolf-whistles from the other guys and reproachful sounds from the girls.

“Well, then you can join us single blokes this coming Friday,” Dean invited his housemate with a grin, “Seamus, Michael, Terry, myself, and a few others have been occupying a large table at the back of a pub on Tottenham Court called The Rising Sun. Quite fun to watch the Muggle ladies at the bar.”

“Dean, are you serious?” Hermione demanded.

“What? I was raised by Muggles, I know my way around,” he insisted cheekily.

“But you can’t just… just…” she sputtered and flailed, unsure of what exactly she was trying to convey.

“I’m behavin’ myself, Hermione, no worries,” Dean held up his hands in a placating gesture. “The most that’s ever happened is we have a few drinks, maybe hit up a club, but it’s over when the night ends.”

“That sounds brilliant,” Anthony nodded emphatically, “I think I’ll take you up on it.” As the two fell into a more in-depth conversation about plans for the next weekend, Hermione rolled her eyes and flopped back against her chair beside Draco, who was trying valiantly not to laugh at her consternation.

“I’m sure they’re just having a bit of fun,” he assured her.

“Yes, but what if they accidentally do magic in front of these women? Or say something suspicious? They could get in so much trouble!” her concern was genuine, but he knew she was working herself up for nothing.

“I doubt very highly that would happen, but even if it did, there’s nothing you could do about it, anyway. They’re adults now and have to be responsible for their own actions.”

“Ugh. Why are you being so reasonable?” she groused and this time he did let out a hearty guffaw at her petulant expression.

“One of us has to be, yeah?” he leaned over and kissed her temple, then her cheek, then tilted her chin with his finger so she was facing him so his lips could meet hers in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Draco, you’re up next. Want another go at _Final Fantasy_?” Neville hollered over the buzz of chatter that had grown louder in the last few minutes as everyone finished their breakfast and started moving around.

Breaking their connection, the pale blonde pulled back and met his girlfriend’s slightly glazed-over expression with a satisfied smirk, “The quest beckons.” He pecked her on the cheek again before hoisting himself up and going to sit in front of the screen where the controllers were.

ooOoo

The Second Years were thoroughly ecstatic to see their mentors, since it had been two months without a visit. Much catching up and sharing of news took place as they all gathered along the bank of the Black Lake, where the Hogwarts Elves had done a smashing good job of setting up a picnic. Blankets and quilts covered a wide swathe of ground in one of the flatter areas near the water, and in the center of every fabric surface was a delectable collection of sandwiches, fruit, biscuits, drinks, crisps, and other items easy to eat with one’s fingers while sitting on the ground.

In no time at all, everyone had plopped down with their respective Eighth Years, most settling in two groups per blanket, though the largest had three, and all close enough to one another that conversation could flow between clusters without problem. The sky was a bright, cloudless blue, and the sun seemed in agreement with their plan as it was warmer that day than it had been all week.

Hermione and her three charges happened to be sharing a blanket with Neville and his two, which meant both Andrew and Allison were present. The young couple were still quite happily “an item,” though the Slytherin witch looked ready to hex the young man when he outed her to their older lunchtime companions.

“Oh, yeah, did you hear about the Shoco-O-Choc prank?” he asked through a mouthful of chicken and ham. Hermione shook her head with wide eyes, though Neville, of course, sighed heavily and fixed his student with a firm stare.

“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact,” the Herbologist-in-training cocked a brow in question. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“No! No he would not,” Allison interrupted forcefully, clapping her hand over Andrew’s mouth as he started laughing. Malcolm, Darla, and Neville’s other mentee, Yuki, all cracked up, knowing exactly where this was headed.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, eager to hear the whole story now that it was quite obvious there was definitely one to tell.

“Well, someone snuck some of those spicy chocolates into the pudding right before Easter. A couple of tables, mostly Fifth and Sixth Years, wound up eating them and it was hilarious!” Malcolm dissolved into a fit of hysterics as Darla tried to pick up where he’d left off.

“Yes, they had no idea, and by the time the first ones realized their mistake, like six or seven others had already eaten them. There was a whole bunch of them coughing and spitting and crying,” she giggled at the memory while trying to look like she felt sorry for them.

“Yes, one of them came to our table and grabbed the big jug of pumpkin juice – drank right out of it,” Yuki added in her quiet, sweet voice, her dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Was it just random? Or specifically aimed at those students?” Hermione wondered, ever the curious one.

“Well, from what I understand, an older Slytherin had been a bit of a prat earlier in the week,” a low drawl came from a nearby blanket and they all turned to see Draco smirking in their direction, his grey eyes focused on one particular member of their party. “Apparently he was teasing the First Year girl quite mercilessly over her love of a Muggle book series and _someone_ ,” a blonde brow cocked in accusation, “decided he needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Well, he _did_ ,” Allison finally relented and admitted fault, her cheeks flaming, her chin set in defiance. “Tilly was sobbing after he mocked her the day before and I heard him tell his mates she was _such a baby_ and that she should _get over it_. Well, he wasn’t so quick to get over his little episode – puked all over the floor in the Great Hall. Serves him right.” She crossed her arms and fixed Draco with a challenging look, “He whinged about it for hours in the common room, trying to make everyone feel sorry for him.”

“Yeah, and then she walked right by him and said he was acting like a baby and needed to get over it,” Andrew cackled gleefully, clearly delighted with the payback his girlfriend had doled out.

“Oh, goodness,” Hermione murmured, caught between wanting to laugh, and being proud of her charge for sticking up for a younger student, while also feeling the need to reprimand her for the prank.

“Too late to do anything about it now, I suppose,” Neville sighed and shrugged in a _what can we do_ sort of gesture.

“Hmmm, yes, I suppose it is,” Draco pinned the dark-haired girl with a speculative look, “Though if anything were to happen like that again, I think two weeks’ worth of detention with Mister Filch would be appropriate.”

While most of the students gathered around immediately launched into a horrified chorus about the evils of the aged caretaker, and the sorts of heinous punishments he might inflict on the unfortunate soul within his supervision, Allison merely shrugged and pluck a strawberry off the platter.

“I’m sure it won’t. There was only one box of the chocolates, anyway.”

The Flying Instructor couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter that escaped at the combination of cheek and nerve the young girl displayed. He caught Hermione’s eye and they shared a look of mutual amusement and exasperation before turning back to their lunches and the conversation around them.

ooOoo

At the end of the leisurely day spent by the lake, promises were made to squeeze one more visit in before everyone went home for the Summer break. Suggestions were made as to what kind of gathering they should have, and the older crew vowed to take all the ideas into consideration as they doled out hugs and handshakes, promises to write, and wishes for a good final month. As the adults headed back to the Room to gather their belongings and take their leave, opinions were voiced about the next get together.

“We are not having a massive Quidditch match,” Hermione insisted vehemently.

“Nor are we teaching them the Bubble Head Charm, or going diving in the lake,” Hannah laughed incredulously at the thought.

“The movie night was a good one,” Neville offered.

“Or another bonfire,” Padma added.

“What if we taught them an outdoor Muggle game?” Dean wondered aloud, “Something like kickball, or cricket, where there’s decent sized teams. Even more than one game…” He trailed off, his brain clearly whirring with possibilities.

“Oooh! We could do a cookout!” Hermione exclaimed, clapping her hands together, and Dean immediately started nodding in agreement.

“And play those sorts of games, yeah? Frisbee, bocce, croquet?”

“I know how to play bocce!” Draco announced importantly and Hermione patted him on the arm with a humoring smirk.

“Yes, love, you do.”

“What’s a cookout?” Theo was curious.

“It’s sort of like a picnic, in that you eat outside, but you cook burgers and other things on a grill,” Hermione explained.

“I’ve had a burger!” Draco was getting smugger by the second with all his knowledge of the Muggle world on display. This time, his girlfriend just sniggered and rolled her eyes.

“That sounds fun,” Daphne beamed.

“Do you have one of those? A grill?” Anthony asked.

“My stepdad does, and I’m pretty sure he’d be okay with me bringing it here for one weekend. Long as I promise to replace the charcoal,” Dean grinned.

“That’s settled, then,” Padma stated decidedly, “Let us know what we need to bring or do to help prepare. I can’t believe that will be our last Game Night of the year – it’s gone by so fast!”

Murmurs of agreement rose up and everyone lost themselves in thought for a brief moment as they considered all that had transpired over the course of the school year.

“We’ll continue this again next term, won’t we?” Luna asked the group at large, her wide blue eyes hopeful.

“I don’t see why not,” Draco shrugged and gestured between himself and Neville, “We’ll still be here to get snacks.”

“Which is clearly the most important part,” Daphne teased.

“Well, I, for one, have loved having a bit of an escape to look forward to each month. We should still get together in July and August, just somewhere else,” Padma said.

“That would be great,” Theo grinned widely, “Maybe we can host a gathering at ours?” His sweet wife nodded vigorously at the idea and the rest of their friends agreed.

“I suppose we should say our farewells for now, though,” Hannah sighed, “I don’t know about you lot, but I’ve got an early start tomorrow. It’s the annual inspection for the Leaky; license renewal, all that fun stuff. Tom never had any problems, but it’s my first go ‘round by myself, so I want to make sure the place is perfect.”

Her housemates were quick to offer words of encouragement and surety over her success, and the suggestion was made that they should all meet there during the Summer, too.

Goodbyes were doled out as the recent graduates slowly gathered their belongings and trickled out the door to make their floo appointments. Eventually, as was often the case, only Hermione remained of those who needed to leave for home, and she and Draco strolled unhurriedly through the quiet corridors, talking in soft voices and stealing kisses in various alcoves and hidden places.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips as he kissed her repeatedly, “I love having you by my side. I love being with you, and I want to be with you every single day.” He peppered kisses down her jawline to a favorite spot behind her ear where he nuzzled his nose in her curls and held her tightly to him, “I can never get enough of you and I don’t think that will ever change.”

She hummed lightly in agreement as her breath hitched at his touch. She carded her fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp lightly and returned his kisses with equal fervor.

“Someday you’ll be with me all the time, and you’ll probably get sick of it,” she snarked with a tiny giggle.

He cupped her face between his palms and stared intently into those gold-flecked eyes he knew so well, “Never.” His tone was light and a small smirk quirked the corner of his mouth, but his pewter gaze was more serious than she’d seen in a long time. She knew he meant what he said, and her heart thumped wildly at his declaration – to be so thoroughly loved and cherished by this man was more wonderful than she’d ever imagined. She’d never been a helpless romantic, but he’d turned her into a puddle of love-sick mush in the year and a half they’d been together, and she wasn’t exactly complaining about the transformation.

Instead of correcting his emphatic statement, she simply brushed her nose against his, kissed him once more and whispered, “I love you,” before pulling back and taking his hand, tugging him towards the Headmistress’ office.

“You do know you technically have until ten o’clock when her floo closes?” he groused as he trudged along beside her.

“I know, and I would really, really love to stay for another two hours, but I have a meeting first thing tomorrow with Warlock Rhysand to go over the final draft of my House Elf legislation, and I need to be in top form,” she turned pleading eyes on him and he knew he couldn’t give her a hard time. While Hermione truly did love her job and enjoyed the myriad of assignments she’d been handed and the beings she got to interact with, this was why she had chosen her particular career path, and the fact that she was already to this point after less than a year in her role was quite impressive.

“I know, love,” he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, “You’ll be brilliant, as always, and I’m sure the Elves will throw you a parade when it’s all over. Make some sort of national holiday of it.”

“Stop,” she laughed as she poked him in the ribs, smirking when he squeaked in response.

“You’ll tell me all about it?” pale brows cocked in question.

“Of course,” she beamed as they ascended the stairs to the chambers above.

McGonagall was actually at her desk when they arrived, and they spent a few minutes with their former professor, updating her on the latest goings-on (particularly in Hermione’s case, since Draco saw the older witch every day), as well as their ideas for a final gathering with their Seconds the next month.

“I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your dedication to your young charges,” McGonagall glanced between the two young adults before her, “All of you. It has truly been a wonderful thing to watch – the younger students have flourished under the leadership and guidance of a mentor, with this year’s batch following suit. I know your Second Years look forward to their time with you each month, and I means a great deal that you give up your time for them.” She paused to consider her next words, “Do you think this is something you will continue next year?”

Draco and Hermione looked at one another, both realizing that the conversation earlier, while not a formal decision, had most definitely seemed to ensure more monthly connections with their young friends.

“I believe so, yes,” Draco nodded firmly and Hermione joined in at his side.

“Especially with both Draco and Neville still here, and Daphne just working down in the village, it’s fairly easy to coordinate. That is to say, if you don’t mind us barging in every month again,” the curly-haired witch watched her own mentor with a hopeful expression.

The usually-stern witch couldn’t hide the smile that caused additional wrinkles to crease her face, “I don’t mind in the slightest. In fact, I’d be a bit disappointed myself if you didn’t continue. I have looked forward to seeing your classmates traipse through my office every four weeks; I’ve never had an opportunity to connect with my former pupils in such a way and it has been nice to everyone.” She nodded at Hermione as she spoke and the younger witch beamed in response. There was no question that the Gryffindor Princess still admired her Transfiguration teacher immensely, so to hear that her visits were happily anticipated had her near to bursting with elation.

“Will the third weekend of the month still work for you?” Draco asked.

“Yes, I think that will be fine,” McGonagall paused for a moment, “Will you be able to juggle that with your new Quidditch practice schedule?”

“I should be able to. There are a few months when we don’t practice at all, and for those that we do, I can just shuffle them around so they’re either all first thing in the morning, or late in the day for that one weekend.”

The Headmistress nodded, “Excellent.”

“Will there be any new staff members this coming year?” Draco asked without stopping to consider if this was something he was allowed to inquire about. He was a faculty member, sure enough, but that didn’t mean he was privy to the decisions and placements his more senior colleagues were.

“Well, we will be losing Mister Belby, as you know, since his apprenticeship is over at the end of this term, but Emilie still has another year with Madam Pomfrey. We might be gaining a potions apprentice, but that has not been entirely worked out yet, so I’d prefer not to give further details,” she gave a small, close-lipped smile, “Otherwise, our faculty will remain the same.”

Draco nodded while Hermione asked a question of her own, “Has enrollment gone up much? I know the year we returned, the First Year class was quite small, and the student body as a whole was slightly diminished. This year it seems the numbers were a little more traditional, just from what I’ve seen during my visits.”

McGonagall nodded and shuffled the papers on her desk, looking for something specific. She tugged a sheet of parchment from mid-way through a small stack and skimmed its contents before responding.

“Yes, we traditionally run anywhere from six hundred to seven hundred students. During your Eighth Year, we were down to barely over five hundred with an especially small group of First Years. This year we took on six-hundred-and-twelve, and as it stands right now, enrollment for the coming term is six-hundred-and-sixty-three.”

“I’m glad it’s back up again,” Hermione stated firmly.

“As am I, dear,” McGonagall nodded in agreement.

The petite brunette heaved a great sigh, “I suppose I really should be off.”

“Yes, you’ve got quite an important meeting tomorrow, don’t you?” McGonagall smirked and Draco rolled his eyes, not the least bit surprised that his girlfriend had already told her mentor all about her upcoming plan to free all the House Elves in Britain.

“I do,” Hermione was literally bouncing on the balls of her feet, excitement rolling off her.

“I look forward to hearing how it all went,” the older witch said kindly and Draco nodded at his boss before gently taking Hermione’s elbow and steering her towards the fireplace.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow night, yeah?” he took her hand in both of his and kissed her knuckles.

“Mmhmm, I’ll write soon as I’m home,” she promised.

“You’ll be brilliant, as always,” he smiled down at her before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. They did have an audience after all. “Love you,” he whispered in her ear before he pulled back.

“Love you, too,” she said softly, gazing at him for a beat before stepping away and turning to the hearth. In a flash of green flames, she’d spun out of sight, leaving him smiling wistfully at the place where she’d just been.

“I take it the new Mister and Missus Nott are doing well?” McGonagall’s voice shook him out of his sappy musings.

“Oh,” he turned to face her again but stayed in his spot by the hearth, “Yes, Theo and Luna are very happy. It was a lovely wedding, and it’s nice to see him so… content.” He settled on that word, yet he didn’t feel it quite did justice to the transformation he’d seen in his friend over the last year. Theo had found love, yes, but he’d also found peace and acceptance and true joy since Luna had come into his life. Draco could see it radiating from his fellow Slytherin as clear as day, and recognized it as a mirror of his own countenance now.

The Headmistress nodded and hummed thoughtfully, “I have been told that Auror Potter and Miss Weasley are planning a winter wedding?” Draco nodded in confirmation and she continued, “And do you think there will be any other similar announcements in the near future, Coach Malfoy?”

The look she pinned him with was both shrewdly knowing and openly curious and Draco felt like he was on the verge of either winning the House Cup or getting detention, depending on his answer.

He cleared his throat and took a few steps towards her desk, “Well, I… actually… over the Easter hols I had a… conversation… with Hermione’s father.” He stopped and looked meaningfully at the elderly witch, hoping she would understand what he was hedging towards. Apparently she did, as her typically-narrowed eyes widened for just a second and she sat up the tiniest bit straighter – if that was even possible – before fixing him with a contemplative gaze.

“I see,” her tone was business-like as ever, “Good. Very good. Excellent, really. I should hope to be kept apprised of the situation, if you would be so kind.” She peered over her spectacles at him and he couldn’t help the grin that split his face as he nodded.

“Of course, Headmistress,” he sketched a small bow, earning himself a curt nod, and on that note, strode out the door with a bounce in his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy February! I hope this new month brings better things for everyone - we're starting out with snow, which is rather unusual in my corner of the world! This was just a fun chapter that updated the housemates on the goings' on in everyone's lives. We're almost to the end of the school year, but there's still lots to happen before we get there. I've given up trying to guess how many more chapters this story will have - definitely less than 100! Lol ;) Thank you so much for reading! <3


	84. Sentimental Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione comes up with an idea for Draco's birthday.

Draco’s birthday had rather snuck up on Hermione. Of course, she had it marked on her wall calendar in her office, and in her planner that she brought everywhere with her, and on her small flip-page one on her desk at Grimmauld, and even saved in her phone, but yet it still somehow managed to catch her off guard when she realized it was just five days away. With it being on a Monday, she knew she wouldn’t be able to take off and see him, nor would he be able to skive off with exams looming for his students. She did very much want to see him, though, and thought perhaps she could pull off a very small surprise if she set to work on it straight away.

Living in the magical world makes things much easier when it comes to travel, particularly when one needs to go a long distance in a short time. Floos and portkeys are nothing short of genius compared to the hassle of Muggle trains, airplanes, or cars, and Hermione was incredibly thankful for that. After shooting off two owls and one talking patronus, she managed to get all her ducks in a row by the evening of Friday, June 2nd, and vowed to spend all of Saturday scouring Diagon Alley and the nearby Muggle portions of London for the perfect gift.

It didn’t take nearly as long as she’d expected, and she was back to Number Twelve with over an hour to spare before supper. She’d decided to get several things to add to the little box she’d sent him for Valentine’s Day – things she wanted to do with him once he was done with his probation and could go anywhere he pleased. The collection of gift cards, fliers, and no-expiration-date tickets she rounded up this time covered a few popular eateries (like Marine Ices, which was a long-time favorite for ice cream and gelato-lovers since 1931), several games of ten-pin bowling, passes to the new Sea Life Aquarium, and a brochure about the hot air balloon festival that took place every August.

She also decided to put together something rather silly, but seeing as it was his twentieth birthday, which is a bit of a milestone with leaving one’s teen years and all, she figured he’d appreciate it. In a large, colorful, square box, she amassed a collection of some of his favorite snacks and sweets – twenty of each, of course. There were mini packs of M&M’s and Skittles like he’d just shared with Teddy, as well as his preferred Honeyduke’s offerings like clotted caramels, bonbons, strawberry squids, and fudge flies. By the time she’d crammed them all in there, she was quite certain there were at least two hundred items and she could barely get the lid to stay on while she secured it with a length of curly green ribbon.

The final item she’d settled on was more sentimental than anything else, but something she felt Draco would find just as meaningful as she did, especially given the steadily-growing relationship she saw him developing with her parents, and more specifically with her father. Even now, almost a year after reuniting with them, a lump formed in her throat at the memory of her graduation day; the longing she’d felt as she saw everyone else’s families there to celebrate; the pride she felt in her academic accomplishments; the utter shock of seeing her mum and dad standing there with Harry; the overwhelming realization that it was Draco who had initiated the path taken to bring them back to her.

It had taken her awhile to sort through all of that once the dust had settled and she was ensconced at her parents’ new home Down Under. More than a few nights saw her crying herself to sleep, not in sadness, but in sheer joy and gratitude, and with a heart overflowing with love for the wizard who’d made it all possible. She’d read and reread every single letter between Alcott, Draco, and Harry, and had kept them all simply as a wonderful reminder that nothing is impossible. Since Alcott had not gone public with his findings regarding how to cure memory reversal charms, she had refrained from sending letters back to each of the so-called experts who had told her it was impossible, knowing they would want proof. Instead, she’d enjoyed a cathartic moment in which she burned those discouraging missives one at a time, reveling in the fact that they had been completely and entirely wrong as the flames turned them to ash. She kept one, however, though at the time it was just an impulse, she was very glad now that she had.

Shortly after noon on Sunday, she gathered everything she needed, shrank it all and tucked it into her ever-present bag, and made her way to Harry’s back garden where an old, chipped coffee mug glowed blue and whisked her away in an instant. A few minutes later, she landed with a bit of a wobble on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, and set off immediately for Daphne’s shop. Thankfully, there were no customers present as the witches greeted each other with excited squeals and unintelligible yammering while Missus Beecham smiled indulgently from behind the counter. She waved her young coworker off with sassy insistence that she could manage on her own for a mo’, and the girls bustled upstairs to the small flat where Daphne lived.

“Okay, so everything is sorted, and so long as Draco doesn’t do anything stupid, like hand out detentions he has to oversee, we should be good,” the pretty blonde was beaming.

“Neville already talked him into it?” Hermione asked.

“More or less,” Daphne shrugged, “He sent me a patronus last night saying he’d mentioned them coming to get dinner at the Three Broomsticks as a mini birthday celebration, and Draco was on board. He didn’t want to give specific times or anything – that would have made it seem weird and not at all casual or unplanned.”

“True,” the petite brunette mused, “Will he let us know when he’s bringing him this way?”

“Yes. He’s supposed to send his lion when he leaves his rooms to go get the birthday boy, which should be right around five o’clock.”

“So we’ve got a couple of hours to spare,” Hermione mused, “Whatever shall we do?” Both witches laughed as Daphne fixed tea for the two of them and they sank into an easy and animated conversation, catching up on all the latest gossip, and passing the time rather quickly. While the Golden Girl knew she could have asked McGonagall for permission to visit again, she rather liked the idea of doing something outside the school, away from the ever-curious eyes of the students. She knew that if she and Draco were to be seen strolling through the halls together, rumors would fly about how they spent their time, and she didn’t want his position to be compromised by the creative stories those young minds might think up.

So, instead, she’d enlisted the help of her two friends and hatched a plan to get her favorite wizard out of the castle so she could surprise him with an early dinner and a chance to spend some time, just the two of them. As Daphne was filling her in on her most recent date with Oliver, a silvery shape bounded through the window and landed on silent feet in front of them. The majestic lion opened its mouth and spoke in Neville’s calm, friendly voice.

“Heading to Draco’s now. Should be at the Three in about twenty minutes.”

“I suppose I should get ready, then,” Hermione hopped up and scurried over to the mirror to make sure her hair was still somewhat tamed, and to touch-up what little makeup she had on. “Is this okay?” she gestured to her outfit – low-rise, bootcut jeans with a pair of sparkly flat sandals, and a flowy, sleeveless top that looked like several scarves had been sewn together in various pastel prints. It was a little dressier than she usually wore, but the shirt had caught her eye when she was out shopping for Draco’s gift, and she thought it looked like something to wear for a casual, but still special occasion.

“Absolutely,” the young designer smiled encouragingly, “You look gorgeous and he’s going to be so surprised, and so happy to see you.” She sighed wistfully, “One of these days I’m going to pull off a surprise for Oliver. He’s managed it twice for me now, and somehow I never see it coming!”

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Hermione teased. After a quick run to the loo, she grabbed a lightweight jacket and her wand, made sure she had money (there was no way she was letting Draco pay for his own birthday dinner), tucked his shrunken presents into her pockets and hurried out the door with a last wave at her friend.

Rosmerta greeted her with a warm hug and a wide smile, obviously pleased that her establishment had been chosen for such a thing, and directed the younger witch to a table in the back corner where it was a little quieter and more private than the middle of the main floor. Once seated, Hermione released the charm on the gifts and they all popped back into their normal size, and she arranged them in a small display in the center of the table. Rosmerta came bustling back with two tankards of butterbeer and a small cake with never-ending sparklers on top.

“Oh, Rosmerta, that’s wonderful! Thank you!” Hermione exclaimed, not having asked for the extra festive touch.

“Of course, my dear,” the proprietress winked before tottering off to greet some newly arrive patrons.

About three minutes later, the door opened again, this time bringing two familiar faces into the pub. Draco was talking rapidly and gesturing with his hands, not paying the least bit of attention to his surroundings as Neville steered him towards Hermione with a smug smirk on his face. Roughly a table’s length away, the tall blonde finally paused his litany and looked up, his pewter gaze landing on Hermione in undeniable shock.

“Oh, would you look at that, I’ve forgotten my… something… back at the… yeah,” Neville didn’t even try to make up a story as he loudly proclaimed his need to leave, instead simply waving at his friends and striding back towards the exit.

Hermione giggled at her still-stunned boyfriend, “Happy Birthday!” She slid out from the booth and came to stand in front of him, smiling up at him before popping up on her toes and kissing him softly. That seemed to bring him back as he gave himself a little shake and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a hug.

“What are you doing here?” he asked when he released his hold.

“Well, I wanted to see you, but I knew tomorrow wouldn’t work for either of us, so…” she waved a hand airily as if it had been nothing at all to orchestrate. They scooted back into the booth and she answered all his questions about the details of her little surprise before insisting he open his gifts. As expected, he was thrilled with the candy and got a good chuckle out of her “twenty” theme, and he seemed very excited about the new options for experiences they could share in the future. The last gift shifted the mood to something a little more serious, but that had been expected.

Hermione had taken the last letter she’d received from the healers – the one she had been crying over when Draco found her that day during their Eighth Year – and put it in a frame. She used it as a backdrop or a matte for a copy of two photos: the one Hannah had taken after graduation, where Draco, Hermione, Edward, and Jeanette were all standing together in the Room, and one of the four of them from Christmas. Andromeda had dug out an old camera of Ted’s right before the end of their visit, and had snapped dozens of pictures in a manner of minutes. One of Hermione’s favorites was that of herself and Draco, flanked by her parents, in front of the magnificent tree in the Manor’s sitting room. She’d framed the print Andromeda had sent her, and then decided to make a copy for this very purpose.

The healer’s script was just barely visible in a thin border around the edges of the two pictures, but it was enough for Draco to recognize exactly what it was. His eyes flashed to Hermione’s as he figured it out.

“I think that was the day I knew,” she spoke quietly and willed herself not to get emotional, “The day you sat with me on the couch. I was a mess, and you stayed with me until I was alright. I knew something had shifted between us by then, at least for me it had, but looking back…” She took a deep, shuddering breath as her eyes welled up, “I’d never found so much comfort in someone before, felt so much peace, even in the middle of what I thought was a completely hopeless situation.” A single tear slid down her cheek but her smile was radiant, “I think I knew, in some small way, that you were it for me.”

Draco glanced down at the frame one more time before sliding over right next to her and engulfing her in his embrace. His own throat was tight with emotion as he remembered how broken she’d seemed that day, and how completely useless he’d felt.

“I will never be able to thank you enough,” she whispered against his shoulder, “But I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much I appreciate what you did for me.”

He pulled back and looked at her still-glassy eyes, feeling like he wanted to burst into tears and snog her senseless at the same time, “Love, you don’t have to do anything to thank me. The fact that you’ve given me a chance, that you can see past who I was, that you _love_ me. It’s more than enough.” The last few words came out a bit strangled and he pressed his lips to hers in an attempt to keep his rising emotions at bay. She caressed the side of his face and returned his kiss ardently, pouring everything she could into it, and receiving everything he gave in return.

After a few seconds, they broke apart, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, and a sheepish grin spread across Hermione’s face.

“So, Happy Birthday,” she shrugged and he sniggered before tugging her back in for another kiss, this one much quicker and much less fraught with unspoken sentiments.

Perfect timing, as Rosmerta appeared at their table just a beat later, asking what they wanted to eat and wishing Draco a very happy birthday. After ordering, the young couple filled the next few hours with updates and stories from their daily lives, memories – both shared and not – from birthdays past, and hopeful ideas for the future. The other customers came and went in a steady stream as the sun set and evening waned, and sooner than either of them would have preferred, it was time for Hermione to go.

Draco tucked her under his arm as he walked her back towards Gladrags, simply enjoying the fact that he _could_ at the moment. It was rare they had a chance to go anywhere out and about together, much less just the two of them. The last time they’d been down to the village, they’d been joined by thirty other people. It was nice to just be them.

“I still can’t believe you came all this way for dinner,” he chuckled as he squeezed her in a side-hug while they walked.

“It wasn’t just a dinner,” she huffed, “It’s your birthday tomorrow; your _twentieth_. That’s a big deal, leaving your teen years behind and all. Plus, I really wanted to see you open your gifts in person.”

“Well, regardless of how big or small the occasion, I truly appreciate you orchestrating it. There is no one else I would rather celebrate with,” as he said this, they reached the store front and stood beneath the soft glowing light that graced the sign. They stopped and he moved so he was standing directly in front of her, peering down at her with a soft look on his face, his eyes flickering between hers.

“What?” she asked, bemused by his expression and his lack of words.

“Just committing this to memory,” he flashed a lopsided smile, “And getting ready to kiss you properly before Daph shows up.”

Before she could finish the giggle that escaped, he swooped in and captured her lips, his fingers sinking into her curls as he cupped her neck and tilted her face up to better reach her. He was gentle, but insistent; sweet, but passionate, and it stole her breath like it always did. She wound her arms up around his shoulders and rose up on tiptoes to even the distance, tilting her head and opening her mouth so her tongue could dance with his.

A distant thumping and scuffling from inside the shop interrupted their blissful state, and Daphne’s muffled voice came lilting through the front door.

“I’m coming to open up so you two better be done with whatever you’re doing now!”

They broke apart with a huff of laughter and were still grinning when the blonde witch swung open the door, smirking mischievously at the two of them, noting their disheveled hair and flushed faces.

“Mmhmm,” she looked them up and down with great flair, “Got your goodbye in, then?”

“Yes, mum,” Draco rolled his eyes but flashed a smile all the same.

“It’s three minute to,” Daphne told Hermione who nodded in thanks before turning to her boyfriend.

“I’ll write when I’m back, and then tomorrow, too, of course,” she kissed him once… then again… then again before flinging her arms around his neck and squeezing as hard as she could without choking him. “Love you. So much.”

“Love you, too,” he murmured into her neck as he returned her embrace.

He let her go and she waved as she followed Daphne into the shop, and he let out what was probably the sappiest-sounding sigh he’d ever emitted in his life as he turned on his heel and started making his way back towards the path that would take him up to the castle. The whole walk back, he couldn’t squash the feeling of pure joy that had blossomed in his chest, nor could he erase the lovesick expression he knew was plastered on his face, but he didn’t care. The fact that Hermione had come all this way just to see him for a few hours… it meant more to him than he could properly explain.

Yes, he had done the same for her for Valentine’s Day, and hadn’t thought twice about all the plotting and planning and assistance from Potter it had taken to do so. He would do anything for her, without question, and surprising her in her office seemed like such a small gesture. However, now that he was on the receiving end of a similar situation, he understood why it had garnered such a strong reaction from her. He knew she thought about him every day – their nightly journal conversations showed him that – and he also knew she enjoyed doing things that expressed her love for him. He did feel loved, very much so in fact, but at the moment he also felt... important to her… if that made any sense. Not that he’d ever felt unimportant in their relationship, but it just resonated deeply within him for reasons he couldn’t explain.

He decided not to overanalyze it and instead to simply enjoy replaying their time together in his mind as he ambled up the sloping lawn towards the ancient school. Only a few weeks left and then he’d have a bit of a break from lessons, though he’d be starting his training with Carson soon, so it wasn’t as if he’d be entirely without responsibilities. However, there was one particular task he was most eager to finish organizing, and he thought perhaps his mentor and former DA professor might be the best person to help him sort it out.

Nodding to himself, he made a mental note to talk to Bill after classes were finished the next day, and instead of immediately going all the way up to his own apartment, took a detour to Gardener Longbottom’s quarters so he could thank his friend for his part in Hermione’s grand scheme. The next decade of his life looked to be off to a brilliant start before it had even officially begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some happy fluffiness to celebrate Draco's birthday :) And I love Neville. Just saying.   
> I can now officially report that I have finished writing this story!!! It wound up being way longer than I intended, but the end is definitely in sight - 6 more chapters to go!  
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, and keeping me company on this monstrosity of a plot bunny! Stay safe and healthy, my wonderful readers! <3


	85. When in Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday celebrations continue, and Draco looks ahead to the future.

Draco was still riding the high of his unexpected date with Hermione the next day, his actual birthday, and many of his faculty friends and students were keen to help him celebrate the momentous occasion. Breakfast set the tone when Neville stuck a candle in his muffin and the others around the table burst into song, garnering the attention of everyone else nearby. For the rest of the day, the younger students took every opportunity to sing loud, boisterous versions of the traditional tune, and he received several small tokens from some of the ones he was closest to. Christopher presented him with a handsome raven feather quill, while Olivia gifted him with a new pot of silver ink (for “fancy letters,” she’d explained). It was clear the two had coordinated their gifts, and he deeply appreciated the gesture.

Neville sought him out later on in the day, a sheepish grin on his friendly face, “I didn’t want to give you this at breakfast since I know we don’t really do presents as staff members, but I’ve been tending these in Greenhouse Four and thought it might come in handy.” He handed Draco a medium-sized pot with a bright green plant emerging from the tightly packed soil. Instead of leaves or flowers, thick tentacle-like growths were protruding from the earth in a close cluster.

“It’s a new hybrid Professor Sprout and I have been working on – a cross between dittany and aloe, which is a Muggle plant commonly used to help with healing burns and minor abrasions. It looks almost exactly like this, too, but with the dittany in its composition, it’s much more potent,” he puffed up with pride as he explained and Draco didn’t even try to hide how impressed he was.

“That’s brilliant, Neville! Thanks!” he held out his hand and shook the other wizard’s in earnest appreciation.

“Well, I figured you might need something like that with all your upcoming curse-breaking training and the like,” the former Gryffindor shrugged, still smiling widely.

“I’m sure I will,” Draco snorted, “I’m just hoping any mishaps will be on a smaller scale that what we ran into last year.”

“Too right!” Neville glanced around the slowly emptying corridor, “You coming to the Hall for dinner? I’m sure you’ll only have to endure a dozen more choruses of the birthday song.”

“Haha,” the tall blonde drawled, but his smirk held only amusement, “Actually, Bill and Fleur invited me to theirs, so I’m headed there in a minute.”

Neville nodded, “Oh, yeah, they did that for me, too. Fleur’s an excellent cook. I’m sure she’ll make something delicious.” He clapped his fellow staff member on the shoulder, “Enjoy your night, then!” and strode off down the hall.

Grinning to himself, Draco walked back to his chambers to deposit his new plant on the window seat where the sun would greet it the next morning, discarded his robes, freshened up in the loo, and was just about to leave when he happened to glance at his bedside table and saw a few lines of writing on the open page of his journal that hadn’t been there that morning.

**_Happy Birthday, Draco!_**

**_I hope you have a wonderful day filled with things that make you smile._ **

**_I love you so very much ~ I’ll write again tonight._ **

**_Xoxoxoxo_ **

His cheeks were going to be sore from all the grinning he’d done that day, he was sure of it. His adorable witch never forgot anything, did she? She’d just seen him the night before and had wished him a happy birthday several times (some unspoken – those were his favorite), and he knew how busy she always was on Mondays, yet she’d still found time to jot off a quick note. For someone who’d been raised to think thoughtful gestures were pointless and silly, he’d most assuredly come to appreciate them over the last two years. Knowing he was remembered was a nice feeling, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that, and since he’d realized how much it mattered to him, he vowed to do it for others more often.

With that thought in mind, he grabbed a bottle of Elvish wine from the hutch in his tiny kitchen area as he swept out the door on his way to Bill and Fleur’s.

The tall redhead greeted him with a wide grin and a one-armed hug as he ushered him into their apartment. Fleur was bustling around the kitchen, but stopped to kiss both his cheeks and exclaim over his proffered gift.

“Oh, Draco, you did not ‘ave to! Eet iz your birthday, after all!” but her glowing expression showed her appreciation nonetheless.

“Well, my mother would have been sorely disappointed in me if I’d shown up for dinner without a hostess gift,” he winked and she laughed brightly.

“Dinner iz almost ready, if you and Bill want to relax and entertain Victoire for a bit?” she tilted her head towards the sitting area, where the six-month-old was cooing happily at a mobile of flowers and butterflies that revolved slowly above her bassinet.

“Come say hello to Draco, poppet,” Bill crooned at his daughter as he scooped her out of her little bed and brought her over to the couch, where he plopped her on his lap, facing the younger wizard.

Sparkling blue eyes took in the newcomer, and as she chewed on her little fist, she gurgled and hummed at him, waving her other arm at him and wiggling a bit on her dad’s leg.

“Hello, Victoire, it’s nice to see you again,” Draco said with mock formality and offered his finger in lieu of a handshake. She grabbed it and squealed, beaming at him while smacking her drool-covered hand on the front of Bill’s shirt.

“Ah, thanks, lovie,” Bill sighed, but followed it with a tired-sounding chuckle. “Nothing stays completely dry for long these days.”

“I can imagine,” the younger man nodded, “Teddy makes a right mess quicker than anything I’ve ever seen. He’s way past just drooling though, and usually leaves something sticky or crumbly or just plain nasty in his wake.” He shuddered affectedly, remembering the crumpet-and-jelly handprint that had made a new home on Draco’s trousers the last day he was home for the Easter hols.

Bill gave a hearty guffaw, “Ah, yes, the toddler years. Those are the best. Like dealing with a miniscule, foreign dictator who can’t speak your language and only communicates through destruction and tantrums.”

“Why do I feel like you’re referring to your siblings?” Draco snarked.

“Oh, absolutely,” Bill sniggered, “Ginny was the worst, no question.”

“Really? Not the twins?”

“They got into the most trouble, but Ginerva was a right tyrant. Even before she could talk she was bossing everyone around, pointing and shrieking and stomping her tiny feet. Her magic showed up the earliest, too. I’ll never forget the night she exploded the bowl of turnips at the dinner table – she’d just turned three and she _hated_ the things – Mum was threatening to send her to bed hungry if she didn’t eat them, and, well, no one ate them that night.” Both wizards were laughing outright by the end of the story, and Draco had no problem imagining the feisty redheaded witch pulling off a stunt like that, even at such a young age.

“Come eat!” Fleur called from across the room, and they obeyed at once, Bill carting Victoire along in his arms and placing her gently in her highchair between his seat and his wife’s.

While Draco knew the French witch was an accomplished cook, he still hadn’t been prepared for the obviously gourmet meal set before him. Their small, scrubbed wooden table contained a feast that would have been found at the finest restaurants in Paris; lyonnaise salad, lamb chops in a dijon sauce, sautéed asparagus, lentils in a vinaigrette, warm, crusty baguettes, and…

“Is that potatoes au gratin?” Draco asked, eyeing the familiar-looking dish with increased anticipation.

“Ah, you ‘ave had _Gratin Dauphinois before?”_ Fleur asked, a smile on her face.

“Yes, Hermione’s mother, Jeanette, made them for us over Christmas,” he replied, “They were amazing!”

“Well, I ‘ope Bill’s meet your expectation,” she gestured for him to sit down, which he started to do, but then froze as her words sank in.

“You made them?” he asked his mentor, glancing at the lightly-browned, still bubbling casserole with wonder.

Bill chuckled, “Yes, I quite enjoy cooking actually. Mum was never much of a fan of letting other people take over her kitchen, so I could barely fend for myself when I first moved out, but after a bit, I realized it wasn’t nearly as daunting as I’d originally thought. A lot like potion-making, if you think about it.”

“That’s exactly what my mother said,” Draco replied as he settled into his seat at last. “I was always decent at potions, but I’m not sure I could pull off a full supper.”

“Start small,” the red-haired man suggested with a smirk, “Scrambled eggs, or plain biscuits. Soups are easy – just throw everything in the pot and let it cook itself.”

“You ‘ave never made anything before?” Fleur was curious.

“Toast,” Draco admitted ruefully, “The first time Hermione and I talked after my trial, it was in her kitchen, and she taught me how to use a toaster. I helped her make cinnamon bread once, too.” He smiled fondly at the memory as he took a bite of his dinner and sighed with obvious delight, “This is delicious.”

His hosts thanked him for the compliment and then insisted he tell them the story of the toaster, which he was happy to oblige them with. Over the course of their dinner, he shared several stories about his early days as Hermione’s friend, and asked Bill and Fleur some questions about their beginnings as well. Even though Bill had shared a few key points, Draco knew there was more to their tale than the way they met, or the unique proposal that took place a year later. As the still-young couple reminisced, they often talked over one another, finishing each other’s thoughts, and laughing before the end of a memory was explained, knowing what was coming. The blatantly clear joy they got just from being with each other was evident, and Draco felt a deep longing for the same opportunity to arise with his favorite witch. He knew they’d get there, he was just impatient about it.

“Bill said you ‘ave already spoken to ‘Ermione’s fazzer?” Fleur asked as supper was floated away and a lovely pear tart brought over for dessert.

Draco nodded, “Yes, over the Easter break. Edward and I had several conversations, but I did specifically ask for his permission to propose in the near future.”

“Zhat iz a very important step,” bright blue eyes sparkled at him with genuine excitement, “Do you know when you will ask her?”

“Hopefully this summer,” the tall blonde admitted, and felt a zing of energy course through him at the idea. While he’d thought about it almost constantly during every free moment since returning to the castle, he’d not said it out loud to anyone else. It made it all seem much more certain and definite… and real. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before looking at his hostess with honest curiosity. “Fleur, did you give any hints or suggestions to Bill about the kind of ring you preferred?”

Fleur looked a little surprised by his question, but considered it thoughtfully before answering, “No, I did not. I zhink he knew my tastes based on what he saw me wear day-to-day, but we never spoke of eet.” She turned a beaming smile on her husband and reached across the table to entwine her fingers with his, “He chose eet all on ‘is own and eet was perfect.”

Bill chuckled lowly and returned his wife’s adoring look, “I knew she preferred silver or white gold over yellow or rose, and that her favorite gemstone is aquamarine. I also observed she never wore anything large or clunky or overstated; all her jewelry was delicate and tastefully simple.”

Draco nodded, “That’s along the lines of what I’m thinking for Hermione. Plus, her hands are rather small, so I don’t think a huge stone would look right, but nearly everything in my family’s vault is gaudy and ostentatious.” He considered his next words carefully, unsure how to voice his misgivings, “I also don’t really know that she would want anything connected to an ancestral line that despised her lineage.”

Bill hummed in understanding and Fleur tapped her lower lip with a forefinger as if deep in thought, and Draco caught a glimpse of the ring she’d received that day on the festival float. A thin band of platinum, centered with a round-cut, ½ carat aquamarine that was flanked by two slightly smaller diamonds, and then two more even tinier ones. The band seemed to have a bit of a swirling pattern on it, instead of being flat, and her wedding ring matched that curved design. It sparkled in the light just as brilliantly as something twice its size would and could never be considered lack-luster or plain.

“If you wanted to use somezhing from your family’s vault,” Fleur began slowly, “Per’aps you could choose a piece and ‘ave eet redone more to your liking? Or simply use a stone from somezhing?”

“If you have a fond memory of a relative who wore a specific piece, you could do as Fleur suggested, and take the stone and have it set in something of your own design,” Bill agreed and Draco took this under advisement.

He nodded, smiling at his friends, “That’s a brilliant idea. I’ll have Potter set up a time when he can take me over there to look. When I thought of the options earlier, all I considered were the rings as they already were, and none of those are Hermione’s style. But I’m sure there’s something I could use as a starting point and go from there.”

“Well, there you go,” the older wizard smirked, “Problem solved before dessert’s even been finished.”

Refills of tea and coffee, and second helpings of the scrumptious tart were enjoyed as conversation turned towards the end of term and what remained on the docket for their DADA students.

“While the week of exams is a chore for the students, it’s actually quite a breeze for the faculty. We administer the tests and sit back and watch while they scribble away. And since they only take two exams per day, we only see two classes. Granted, we have them for longer, but it goes by rather quickly.”

“Did you have any problems with cheating last year?” Draco was curious.

“Only once,” the redhead huffed in irritation, “One of my Fifth Years – you know him – Venezio – tried to use a spelled quill to take his exam. He’d somehow gotten a look at the questions and the order they were written in. It backfired spectacularly when he realized halfway through that I had made multiple versions of the test with the questions listed in different orders, and his parchment did not match up with the answers in his quill.”

Draco snorted wryly, “Why does it not surprise me? He’s the one I had in detention last term for Penelope, and I’ve caught him several times on the verge of a prank in the corridors. For a Slytherin, he’s not nearly as subtle as he likes to believe.”

Chuckling, the Flying Instructor slowly got to his feet, feeling pleasantly full and on the verge of sleepy after a long day and a wonderful meal. He was just about to thank his hosts when Bill hopped up, pointing a finger at him in mock severity.

“You can’t leave just yet,” he shook that same finger before striding off towards one of the bookshelves next to the fireplace. Draco looked bemusedly at Fleur who just shrugged and smiled as she pulled a droopy-eyed Victoire from her high chair. Coming around the table, she wrapped her guest in a one-armed hug.

“’Appy Birthday, Draco, and may you ‘ave many, many more to come,” she kissed him lightly on both cheeks and made the sweet baby wave her little arm in a farewell gesture. “I must get zhis leettle one to bed, but will see you again soon, yes?”

“Of course. Thank you so much; dinner was absolutely amazing,” Draco grinned at her and ran one finger gently along Victoire’s tiny fist, “Bye, sleepyhead!” He was granted a yawn and a slow blink of those crystal blue eyes before Fleur swept from the room with a final ‘goodnight.’

At that moment, Bill returned and handed a large, leather-bound book to his teaching assistant, “I’d thought about waiting till the end of the year to give you this, but figured you might like a head start.”

Draco peered at the title, embossed in black on a light brown cover, _Knowledge is the Best Defense_ , before looking questioningly at his mentor.

“I came across this a few years into my job with Gringott’s, and wished I’d had it before I’d begun. It was written about forty years ago, which, in the Wizarding World is still considered “new,” and by an American author named Michael Kowalski. He made quite a name for himself shortly after graduating Ilvermorny when he successfully diagnosed, contained, and disposed of a particularly nasty dark artifact that could have potentially blown the whole of MACUSA to bits if he hadn’t intervened.”

“I remember hearing about that in Lupin’s class Third Year,” Draco murmured, more to himself, but Bill nodded as he continued.

“He was only a clerk at the time, but happened to be in the right place at the right moment, and relying solely on innate skill and instinct, saved thousands of people that day. He was immediately offered any position within their curse-breaking department, but requested time to study further on the subject. He wanted to understand dark magic at a base level, so as to better grasp how to combat it in various situations. They gave him leave to do so, with the sole condition that he would remain in their employ on an as-needed basis, and set up an office for him that connected directly to the library and archives so he could research to his heart’s content.”

“Incredible,” Draco had now opened the book and found dozens of chapters on specific curses, counter-spells, and protective charms, among others.

“I think you’ll find it useful,” Bill nodded at the tome, “I would have ordered you a brand new one, but they are currently out of print.”

“What? Why?” the tall blonde was surprised to hear this.

His mentor sighed with obvious frustration, “The Wizarding World is slow to accept ideas and practices that go beyond what’s known, what’s traditional. Especially here in Britain. When Kowalski’s book was first published, it was received with cautious approval in the states, but here it was viewed as dangerous and unproven, especially since he’s a Halfblood. His father was a Muggle. Much of his work is theoretical, as it would be virtually impossible to create every scenario he describes without potentially harming himself or others, just to test out his hypothesis. As a result, it was thought to be _‘asking for trouble’_ by those who felt the tried and true methods were the only way to go. I believe Flourish and Blotts sold a total of ten copies before it was removed from the shelves, and none of the other shops were willing to order it. I only got this one because I happened to be in New York on assignment and visited a small bookstore right before leaving.”

“I’ll get it back to you when I’m finished,” Draco had continued to thumb through the pages, his interest piqued.

“Nah, I’ve got an entire journal of notes I’ve made from it over the years. I honestly don’t need the original text anymore. If you ever reach that same point in your career, pass it along to another up-and-coming Curse Breaker,” Bill smirked. “Carson’s read it, too, as have many of his team members, so I’m sure you’ll have some interesting conversations ahead.”

“I look forward to it,” the younger man grinned, “Thanks, Bill.”

“You’re welcome,” he extended a hand and shook Draco’s firmly, “Happy Birthday, and you know I’m always here if you have questions as you get started on this new career path.”

“I appreciate that,” Draco said sincerely, and he meant it. His younger self had almost never asked anyone for advice or assistance, viewing the idea as weak or humiliating. In the last two years, he’d come to realize that it often took more strength to admit you couldn’t do something on your own than it did to attempt to power through. And the end results in such a case were often lacking. He had no qualms whatsoever about asking his mentor for input as he began his venture into the world of Curse Breaking. The thought of spending a few hours utterly engrossed in conversation regarding this topic with the man before him was infinitely more inviting than he ever believed he’d find it, and he looked forward to the opportunity with eager anticipation.

He thanked Bill again, for both the dinner and the book, and made his way back to his quarters, his brain whirring with thoughts of all they’d discussed that evening. He definitely planned to read at least the first chapter or two that very night, but first, he wanted to respond to Hermione’s earlier message and tell her about his day.

_Hello, love._

_Thank you for your birthday note earlier ~ I saw it right as I was leaving._

_Today has been busy, as usual, but good. Everyone knew it was my birthday, thanks to Neville getting our table to sing to me at breakfast. You know how the students love to get in on the action._

_Had dinner with Bill and Fleur. It was delicious, and I think Bill has inspired me to learn how to cook (more than just toast, I mean). He made those cheesy potatoes your mum makes and they were almost as heavenly (except they were lacking in bacon and mushrooms, which I quite enjoy)._

_He also gave me a book - Knowledge is the Best Defense \- are you familiar with it? I’ve barely cracked the cover and am already intrigued. _

_Enough about me. How are you? How was your day?_

Draco finished that line of script and set his quill down on top of the open journal, knowing it would be a matter of minutes before Hermione saw his message and replied. In the meantime, he decided to get changed for bed and settle in with his new literary acquisition. He was so engrossed in the first few pages, he didn’t notice her familiar script appearing under his own, and must have been unaware for long enough to make her wonder where he’d gone.

_**Hi!**_

_**I’m so glad you had an enjoyable day. I hate that I couldn’t be there to spend it with you, but I’m very glad I got to see you last night at least.** _

_**That was so nice of Bill and Fleur – and I’ll gladly support any culinary endeavor you wish to pursue. I love cooking, and I think it would be a lot of fun to do some together.** _

_**I have not heard of that book. Who wrote it? I’m assuming it has to do with curse breaking?** _

_**…** _

_**…** _

_**Draco?** _

_**Where’d you go?** _

_**…** _

_**…** _

_**You’re already reading it, aren’t you?** _

_I’m sorry!_

_I didn’t realize you’d responded._

_I’m here!_

_**Haha! It’s fine.**_

_**I know how hard it is to resist a new book. Especially one that covers a topic of particular interest.** _

_Yes, I know you do, my little bookworm._

_It’s fascinating, and I’ve only read the foreword and prologue._

_The author is an American wizard, Kowalski._

_Apparently the book is not readily accepted in most Wizarding circles as something useful or applicable, but Bill found it extremely helpful._

_**I’d love to take a look at it sometime.**_

_**I don’t believe one can ever have too much information, or come at something from too many different angles.** _

_**Sometimes all it takes is a new or different point of view to solve an age-old problem.** _

_I couldn’t agree more._

_I used to think the way something was always done was the best way, but all that really meant was I went along with the traditional, biased, Pureblood way and thought it to be superior._

_Merlin, was I wrong._

_**In some cases, the old way is the best. In others, a new approach is necessary. In all cases, a willingness to try more than one way is always helpful.**_

_Nicely put, love._

_**Thanks!**_

_**Harry and Ron always used to tease me about running off to the library as soon as a question or a problem came up. But why not? Where else would I go to find answers? It was more productive than mooning about the common room rehashing the same thing over and over.** _

_**Good Godric, if I had to listen to Harry whinge about the Second Task one more time, I was going to lose my mind!** _

_**And even if I couldn’t find the exact book or scroll I was hoping for, I could still think through the dilemma while searching, which made me feel more productive than simply brooding about it.** _

_Ah, see, I always preferred brooding._

_I’m very good at it._

_It wasn’t until Fifth Year that I really started utilizing the library for more than just homework-related searches._

_**Yes, you were definitely a sullen little thing, weren’t you?**_

_**What riddle were you trying to solve that year?** _

_Oh, I wanted to figure out how to expose that secret army of yours. I hadn’t yet learned about the Room of Requirement, or how it worked, but I knew you lot were meeting somewhere that allowed you to stay hidden._

_**Ah, yes.**_

_**All your research was in vain, I suppose, since Marietta went and ratted us out.** _

_Yes, it was. I was highly annoyed._

_Though your punishment on her was horrifyingly brilliant._

_You really should have been in Slytherin…_

_**Wouldn’t that have been interesting?**_

_**A lot of people thought that hex was cruel, but it wore off after a few months. It would have happened to anyone who exposed us, not just her.** _

_Impartial consequences – how benevolent._

_**Exactly.**_

_Oh!_

_Guess what…_

_**What?**_

_It’s just after midnight, which means there’s now officially ten days until I get to see you again, and only seventeen days until the end of term._

_**Wow! I can’t believe another whole school year has gone by already.**_

_I know._

_I’m hoping next year will move just as quickly._

_**Aren’t you excited about your training with Carson?**_

_Oh, I am._

_I just am anxious to finally be done with my probation._

_**That will be nice – you won’t have any travel restrictions anymore.**_

_**I can’t wait to bring to you Redland to visit my parents with me.** _

_**I think you’d like where they live.** _

_I’m sure I will, love._

_I’d like being anywhere with you._

_**Me, too, Draco.** _

_**Counting the days!** _

_As am I._

_I love you._

_**I love you, too.**_

_**xoxo** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings on this cold, February Monday! As you can see, Draco is anxiously awaiting the end of the school year so he can put his plans in motion. Only a handful of chapters left in this second story - I'm so excited for where we're headed!   
> The author of the book Bill gave him (in my little imaginary world) is the son of Jacob and Queenie for no other reason than the fact that I think they made an adorable couple ;)  
> I hope everyone is hanging in there. Thank you so much for reading - I appreciate your company on this trip more than I can say! <3


	86. By Design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco takes another very important step regarding his future with Hermione.

Thursday afternoon found Draco and Harry lounging in the former’s sitting area, discussing one of the young Auror’s latest missions, as well as some upcoming plans both of them had.

“So, let’s shoot for this Saturday, since Quidditch is done, you won’t have practices or games to worry about,” Harry suggested.

“That works,” the pale blonde nodded, “What time?”

“I can come get you after breakfast. That’s usually when I have to leave if I’m working on a weekend anyway, so Hermione won’t think anything of it.”

“Excellent.”

“Any idea what you’re looking for?”

“Well, I talked with Bill and Fleur when I went to theirs for my birthday dinner, and,” but Draco’s words were cut off by Harry jumping up from his seat.

“Birthday! I completely forgot,” he started searching his pockets rather spastically and after a beat or two, pulled a slightly flattened scroll from the jacket he’d tossed over the back of his chair. Thrusting it forward, he grinned, “Here. Happy Birthday!”

“Potter, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Draco took the scroll awkwardly, “We don’t really do presents, you know.” While the Golden Boy was most definitely one of his closest friends these days, it wasn’t as if they regularly exchanged gifts or anything, and he was slightly embarrassed by the gesture.

“Bah,” Harry waved him off, “You gave me back _Sirius_ last year, and got rid of Walburga to boot, so I don’t even want to hear it.” He nodded at the parchment Draco was unrolling, “Plus, it’s not like I went out and bought you anything. This is just something I thought you’d appreciate.”

Slate-grey eyes darted back and forth across the page and by the end of the short paragraph written on it, Draco’s jaw had dropped open and his brows had all but disappeared into his fringe. He reread it, just to make sure he understood, before pinning his guest with a look of amazed disbelief.

“Minister Shacklebolt has lifted my travel restrictions? A whole year early?” he couldn’t believe it.

Harry was nodding emphatically and looking exceptionally smug as he sank back into his spot, “Yup. I just happened to mention recently that you might need to go places with Carson as part of your training, and that it would be rather difficult if you were still banned from all international travel, or still expected to have me always along for the ride.”

Draco goggled at him, “So… so I can go wherever my training requires?”

“As long as Carson accompanies you, yes,” Harry grinned.

“And what about here?” he glanced back down at the missive containing the Minister’s official seal, “It says ‘ _for domestic journeys, please inform Auror Potter of your whereabouts in every circumstance_.’ What does that mean exactly?”

“Basically, it just means you need to let me know if you’re going somewhere outside of your daily routine. Right now, you’re here every day, but if you needed to return home for something, instead of me having to come and floo with you to the Manor, you just need to owl or fire-call and let me know. And then tell me when you’re returning,” Harry shrugged, “It’ll be a lot easier, yeah?”

“Most definitely,” Draco was still comprehending this extension of his freedom and was suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation for the man sitting across from him. Harry had done so much for him over the last two years, without any gain for himself, and that kind of selfless generosity still baffled the former Slytherin. He pinned his once-enemy with an intense stare, “Thank you, truly. You don’t know what this means to me, and I promise not to abuse the leniency that’s been granted. I know I’m still very much under the watchful eye of the Ministry, and I won’t flaunt my lessened restrictions with stupid escapades, like trips to the pub.”

“Or constant visits to your girlfriend,” Harry snarked, a brow arched in teasing challenge.

“Or that,” Draco chuckled wryly, “The Wizarding World as a whole still doesn’t know about us, so I’m not about to fuel the rumor flames by showing up in random places with her while still on probation.”

“You know if you carry out your plan this summer, word is going to get around that she’s engaged to you,” the raven-haired wizard reminded him.

“I know, but at least it will be something more official than just dating, if that makes any sense,” Draco shrugged and Harry nodded in understanding. “I’m hoping people will be less inclined to try to talk her out of it if they know how serious my intentions are towards her.”

“I don’t think she’s going to encounter a whole lot of opposition to the idea,” Harry said bracingly, “You remember all those letters from the families who received portraits – there are a lot of people who believe in you and are supportive of you. More than you realize, I think.”

“I guess we’ll see in a few weeks, yeah?” Draco tried to play it off nonchalantly, but Harry could see how excited his friend was about proposing to Hermione, as well as how nervous he was about how it would be received by the wider population.

“I guess we will,” Harry grinned at him and the conversation turned back to the weekend ahead and Draco’s previous conversation with the Weasleys.

ooOoo

As promised, Harry showed up at the Flying Instructor’s door just after ten on Saturday morning. As they had done on other outings, the pair of wizards floo’d from McGonagall’s office to the Auror Department, and then apparated from outside the Ministry directly to Diagon Alley. They garnered a few stares and double-takes from weekend shoppers, but nothing unwelcoming or aggressive. Upon entering the vast and impressive bank, Draco strode up to a Goblin he recognized from his youth and waited patiently for the creature to acknowledge his presence.

“May I help you?” the wizened being inquired in a croaky voice.

“Yes, I’d like to visit my vault – the Malfoy vault,” Draco explained, sliding his key across the marble counter for the Goblin to inspect it.

Dark, beady eyes flashed between the young man’s face and the key set in front of him several times before the Goblin picked up the brass object and cast the standard identification spells.

“Your wand, please,” he held out a gnarled hand and Draco placed his wand in it. Again, the proper spells were cast, and since all seemed to be in order, the Goblin called for one of his constituents to take them down.

“Bogbin will escort you,” he gestured to the coworker who had appeared at his side.

As they headed off towards the lifts that would take them into the chambers below, Draco couldn’t help himself.

“Bogbin? Are you the Goblin working with Hermione Granger on the new legislation?”

The creature stopped and turned to look at the tall wizard quizzically, sizing him up, it seemed, before answering, “Yes, that is I. How do you know of such things?”

“Oh, well, Hermione and I are… together. She’s my girlfriend,” he thought that sounded like such a lame title for the woman who held his heart so completely, but he forged ahead, “She mentioned how much she’s enjoyed meeting with you.”

The Goblin puffed up with unmistakable pride, his face taking on what could almost be described as a pleased expression as he nodded and waved them on.

“It has been very interesting,” Bogbin told them as they stepped into the lift, “I have never encountered a witch or wizard who cared so deeply about the relationship between magical species.”

“That’s Hermione, for sure,” Harry piped up and the Goblin glanced at him curiously.

“You are Harry Potter,” he stated plainly, “Miss Granger is your friend, is she not?”

“She’s one of my best friends,” Harry replied fondly.

“The work she is trying to do, it is good,” Bogbin nodded in affirmation, “Even if some of my brethren do not see it as such. There are some that think these new laws will give the wizards more control, but that is not the case. They will simply give clarification so there need not be so many arguments and conflicts over ownership of Goblin-made objects.”

“Less conflict is always a good thing,” Draco agreed quietly and their escort nodded again.

“Indeed.”

They reached the lowest level the lift would descend to, and clambered into one of the horrid carts for the stomach-churning ride to the Malfoy’s vault. Unsurprisingly, it was in one of the bottom chambers, with some of the heaviest security, though Draco only needed to insert the key, and both he and Bogbin placed their hands upon the door’s iron surface. It swung open with a loud groan, exposing a large room – larger than Harry remembered the LeStrange’s being – that was, of course, filled with all manner of jewels, gold, artwork, antiques, weapons, and the like.

“Please, take your time,” Bogbin ushered them in and immediately conjured a chair for himself by the door, which he hopped up into and settled quite comfortably before his two clients had even turned around.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you could manage all the portraits, and the Ministry payroll all together,” Harry snorted in amazement. The vault just kept going, extended further into the back of the cavern, with shelves of priceless items, piles of gold, and trunks of jewels everywhere he looked.

“Yes, well,” for the first time in his life, Draco was actually a little embarrassed by the obscene amount of wealth surrounding him. When he was a boy, he’d thought these riches made him superior to others, and felt that his family’s possession of it meant they were more deserving than those who were less well-off. Now? He looked around and wondered how much could have changed, how much good could have been done with this vast fortune put to use in more meaningful ways.

Shaking off those regretful thoughts, he directed his steps towards an area in the back, “All of my mother’s jewelry, and that of her family, is kept over here.”

Sure enough, an ornate dresser stood beside a full suit of armor, some of its drawers slightly open with strings of pearls hanging out, or glittering stones visible just inside. He started opening each one carefully, obviously searching for something specific. Harry merely stood off to the side, gazing about the incredible contents of the vault and wondering just how far back the Malfoy line went, exactly, in order to have amassed such a treasure trove.

After a few minutes of rummaging through the piece of furniture, Draco turned to Harry with his hand outstretched, several sparkling items in his palm.

“Okay, so I know Hermione would never wear something like this,” he pointed to a humongous diamond ring, the center stone easily ten carats, and surrounded by tiny sapphires, and Harry snorted in agreement. “But I was thinking about taking a stone, or several stones, from some of these pieces and creating something specifically for her. What do you think?”

“Brilliant,” Harry grinned, and he meant it.

“I know Hermione’s birthday is in September, which means her birthstone is a sapphire, but she really, really likes amethysts,” as he spoke, he picked up a different ring, one that had small, light purple stones surrounding a large pearl.

“How do you know that?” Harry hadn’t even known his best friend preferred the purple gemstone.

“I heard her saying something to her mother over Easter. Jeanette had a pair of earrings on with them, and Hermione said something about wishing she’d been born in June,” Draco shrugged.

“Well, you were born in June, so that can be your reasoning,” green eyes flashed with teasing.

“Ah, yes, ‘ _here’s an engagement ring to remind you of my birthday_ ’ is such a romantic gesture,” Draco huffed.

“I think she’d love it,” Harry said sincerely, “Honestly, she’ll love whatever you give her, but the fact that you’re taking her preferences into account will mean a lot.”

“I hope so,” the young aristocrat mused, “I just want to get it right, you know?” Pewter eyes met emerald in a bid for understanding, and Harry truly did get it.

“Of course. It’s a big deal, a whole grand gesture where you lay your heart on the line. It doesn’t matter how sure you are that she’ll say yes, it’s still incredibly nerve-wracking,” Harry still remembered how insanely, ridiculously tense he’d been in the moments leading up to asking Ginny to marry him. He’d never had any doubt what her response would be, but it was still a torturous task.

Draco nodded and studied the pieces in his hand for a few more seconds. Eventually, he decided to bring a smaller diamond ring, and the one with the amethysts with him to the jeweler down the street. He also dug around in another drawer for a bit until he found a delicate bracelet that would match the finished piece, citing his plans to hang on to that for a later time.

Bogbin was still waiting by the door, and hopped up at once, vanished his chair, and led them back to the rickety cart that hurtled them up towards the lifts. Back on the main floor of the financial establishment, they both thanked the Goblin for his help, and he replied with a small nod of his head and his wish to be of any further assistance, should they require it.

As the two young men stepped out into the bright sunlight, they found the cobblestone street much more crowded than it had been when they’d first arrived in Diagon Alley, and Draco felt a pang of apprehension as he considered weaving his way through the throng. He contemplated returning to the castle and simply drawing a diagram of what he wanted and owling it to the jeweler, but Harry seemed to interpret his hesitation as such and wouldn’t let him skulk away so easily.

“C’mon, let’s visit the jeweler and then we can get lunch. I’m starving,” he nudged his reluctant friend with his elbow and cocked his head in the direction they needed to go. Huffing a nervous sigh, Draco resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to get used to being among the general populous again, and he might as well get his initial foray over with.

As before, they did receive some surprised glances, though one could argue they were as much directed at the Boy Who Lived as they were towards his notorious companion. However, there were quite a few people who openly smiled or nodded at them, and several even stopped to shake both of their hands. Of course, there were a small number who glared at him, but no one said anything ugly (at least not that he could hear), and by the time they reached the quaint, little shop next door to Twilfitt and Tattings, Draco was feeling much more at ease than before.

“Welcome to Dartanian’s, how may I help you?” a reedy voice floated out as they stepped through the front door, and the face of a middle-aged wizard appeared behind the till.

“Hello,” Draco greeted the man, stepping further into the store, “I’m interested in having a custom piece made.”

Recognition dawned on the older man’s face as his customer approached, and for a split second, Harry wondered if this had been a mistake. The wizard’s mouth opened and closed a few times and his eyes had gone rather wide before darting to the second person who’d entered his domain. If possible, his expression grew even more alarmed.

Sensing a need to backpedal, Draco stammered, “But if that’s not something you’d be interested…” he began, but his words seemed to jolt the man into action.

“Of course! Of course!” the proprietor came swiftly around the counter and extended his hand, which Draco took with obvious bemusement, “Mister Malfoy, I apologize. I was just so shocked to see you here, I completely forgot myself. I’m Roger Farthing; my family owns this shop.”

“I remember your father,” Draco replied, relaxing a bit, “I used to come here with my mother when I was a boy.”

“Yes, yes!” Roger beamed, “And you, sir,” he extended his hand again, this time to Harry, “It is an honor to meet you as well.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied sheepishly, still not entirely comfortable with his level of celebrity.

Turning back to Draco, the man looked at him thoughtfully before speaking again, “You commissioned a portrait for us. My brother was killed by Death Eaters almost exactly a year before the final battle. I cannot tell you how much it meant to all of us, but especially to my parents, to receive that.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Draco met the other wizard’s eyes and spoke in earnest.

“I appreciate that,” Roger nodded and sniffed once before moving back behind the glass case that held an impressive array of priceless jewelry. “Now, how can I help you, today?”

Over the course of the next half hour, Draco explained the kind of ring he wanted to give his future fiancée. When he let slip who exactly it was that he’d be proposing to, Roger was positively ecstatic.

“Oh, what a wonderful thing,” the owner beamed, “To think two people who overcame so much, who fought on opposite sides, would find one another.” He sighed dramatically, his eyes heavenward, “What an epic love story.”

Draco had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing, but he didn’t miss the low snigger that came from Harry, who was perusing the cufflinks and tie tacks across the room.

“If you could, ummm… keep that information confidential?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“Oh, yes, of course! You have my word! I never discuss who the pieces are for, lest it ruin the surprise. That would be utterly tragic,” Roger assured him.

“Right, so, when do you think you might be able to have this ready?” the pale blonde was starting to get nervous again as the reality of the situation settled on him once more.

“I should say, by next weekend? If that suits you?”

“Oh, that quickly? Wow, ummm…” Draco wasn’t sure he could get back there, since next weekend was the final Game Night of the year.

“I can come get it for you, if you’re alright with that?” Harry offered, stepping up to the counter to join the conversation.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Could we do that, then?” Draco asked the jeweler, who had watched the exchange with unhidden interest.

“Yes, no problem. Just sign this, saying Mister Potter has permission to pick up your custom order,” Roger slid a piece of parchment over and handed him a quill. Details were double-checked, thanks and farewells exchanged, and the young men left the shop feeling wildly accomplished.

“I think a celebration is in order,” Harry insisted, steering his former nemesis towards the Leaky Cauldron.

“I think I need a kip,” Draco groaned as he slid his hand over his face, “I’m exhausted and I haven’t even done anything!”

“I told you, emotionally draining, all this proposal tosh is,” Harry nodded sagely as they reached the popular tavern. The mid-day rush was over, but there were still more occupied tables than not, so they made straight for the bar, where Hannah was chatting with a couple of patrons.

“Well, hello!” she greeted them fondly as they settled onto stools before her, “What brings you two here today?”

“Just… ummm…” Draco was floundering, not having any prepared excuses lined up.

“Errands,” Harry provided firmly, and though Hannah arched a questioning brow, she didn’t press further. Instead, she served up two tankards of butterbeer and insisted they try the hearty potato and leek soup that was the day’s special.

As she walked away, Harry lowered his voice, “So, I’ll come pick it up, but then do you want me to hold onto it until I see you again the following Thursday? Or should I bring it to the Manor when I check in with Narcissa?”

Draco thought about this for a minute while he dunked a piece of crusty bread in the delicious soup. He would be bringing the ring back to the Manor with him once term ended, anyway, so it would make sense for Harry to leave it there, but he really wanted to see it as soon as possible.

“If you could bring it the following Thursday, that would be great,” he tried to make it seem like it didn’t matter either way, but had a sneaking suspicion his intuitive friend saw right through him.

“Will do,” Harry grinned. “Is the date set for certain?”

“I think so,” Draco replied slowly, “I’ve mentioned it in passing twice now, and Hermione’s agreed that it would work with her schedule. Once I’m back at the Manor I’ll send a more specifically-worded message, citing something about my training with Carson or whatever, making it sound like that’s the only solid option for the month.”

“Okay. Have you contacted Edward and Jeanette yet?”

“Yes, sent them an owl over a week ago, and heard back just yesterday. They’re completely on board.”

“Right, then. I’ll iron out details with them this week, then, and get in touch with Molly. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to help out.”

Draco nodded, his head spinning a little with all the details this whole thing was starting to involve. He reminded himself that he still had two weeks left of the school term, plus several more weeks before he would be able to carry out his grand scheme. He knew it would pass rather quickly, but he needed to pace himself. Right now, the ring was the task of the moment and it had been designed and ordered. In roughly twelve days he’d get to see the finished product, and that wasn’t really so long, was it?

ooOoo

It turns out twelve days is an excruciatingly long time when one is waiting for something. Five days after leaving the jeweler with his hand-drawn diagram, Draco was about to lose his mind. By the time Thursday rolled around, his only saving grace was that the next day kicked off the final Game Night weekend for his housemates, and he was sure being around everyone would take his mind off things. In the meantime, Harry was smirking at him from his usual spot, sprawled across the overstuffed chair, and being no help whatsoever.

“You could always have Roger send it by owl as soon as he’s done?” the humble hero offered.

“I don’t want to risk something that valuable getting lost or damaged along the way,” Draco huffed in irritation.

“I could bring it straight to you Saturday as soon as I pick it up?”

“And chance her seeing you? And how would I explain my absence? In all the months we’ve gotten together, I’ve never disappeared during the weekend. It would be entirely suspicious.”

“We could go together on Monday?”

“I can’t. It’s exam week, which means all hands on deck, plus I’ve got a meeting after the students are done for the day, and patrols that night.”

“Maybe we could…” but Draco cut him off.

“It’s fine, Potter, it’s fine. I’m perfectly capable of waiting until next Thursday. It’s only a week from now after all, and I’m sure it will get here quicker than I expect. I’m just being…” he wasn’t exactly sure what he was being.

“Impatient?” Harry suggested with a grin. “Churlish? Petulant? Tetchy?”

“Yes, yes,” Draco waved a hand at him in annoyance, “Probably all of that.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed, “If waiting to see the ring has got me in this sort of state, I’m afraid to think what it will be like once I have it in my possession but can’t give it to her yet.”

Harry snorted, “Don’t worry, the waiting is nothing compared to the actual asking. You’ll wish you still had more time when that day comes.”

“Thank you, Potter, that’s so very comforting,” the pale blond drawled wryly.

“Oh, and then you have to plan the actual wedding, and let me tell you how easy and stress-free that is!” Harry chortled at the horrified look on his friend’s face. “I’m sure Narcissa and Jeanette will take the helm, but you’ll still need to give input on everything from the floral arrangements and table linens, to the guest list and music selection. It’s never ending, I tell you!”

Draco flung his head back against the couch cushion, emitting a low groan and wondering just what exactly he was getting into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh, we're getting closer!!! As always, I love portraying interactions between Harry and Draco, but I also like showing how the rest of the Wizarding World is reacting to him. Of course, not everyone will be quite so welcoming or accepting of the former Death Eater, but Draco's commissioning of the portraits has touched many, many lives. It also goes to show how it wasn't just the handful of named or familiar characters in the story who were lost during Voldemort's rise to power.  
> Four more chapters to go, folks! Thank you so much for keeping up with me on here - I truly appreciate it. I hope this week ends on a positive note for all of you, and that you're staying safe and healthy! <3


	87. One More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final Game Night weekend of the year kicks off!

The Eighth Years converged on their former dormitory with heightened enthusiasm and much anticipation. The idea of a cook-out for their Seconds had firmly taken hold after their last gathering, and owls had flown between the friends in a marathon of questions, ideas, explanations, and final plans.

As was usually the case, Friday was spent lounging around, catching up with one another, and simply enjoying the end of the work week and the promise of a fun and relaxing two days ahead. Draco was comfortably angled into a corner seat on one of the couches, while Hermione snuggled into his side, her legs curled beneath her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He and Theo were carrying on a friendly debate about the merits of combining magic with the ingenuity of video games.

“I mean, just think,” Theo was expounding on his initial idea while absently running his fingers through Luna’s blonde waves as she perused a magazine with her head in his lap. “If someone created a game about dueling, but you could use your wand instead of controller – that’d be amazing! And good practice, too,” he nodded firmly, quite pleased with his idea.

“Yes, but how would you get the game to recognize the magic coming from the wand?” Draco challenged, “The reason the controller works is because it’s connected to the telly. The wand wouldn’t be connected; there’s no way to do that.”

“I think there could be a way,” Theo groused.

“There’s always a way,” Luna trilled contentedly as she turned another page and Theo grabbed one of her hands and lifted it to his lips to kiss her fingers lightly.

“Thank you, love,” he smiled down at her.

Hermione had been rather quiet throughout the whole discussion, not because she was disinterested, but because she was fighting a losing battle to keep her eyes open. Every day that week, she’d gone into the office an hour earlier than usual, and had stayed until almost eight o’clock three nights in a row. The Goblin legislation had come back mostly approved, but with a few additions and small changes to be made, so she’d set that as a priority. She’d also been working on a piece for House Elves that she’d wanted to get to Bernard before the weekend, and she’d been corresponding with the Italian Ministry regarding a recent infestation of Murtlaps along the coast. As they are native to Britain, it was unusual to find the species so far from home, not to mention in such large numbers. The head of the Italian Dipartimento Delle Creatura had been owling the Brightest Witch for days on end, trying to come up with the best way to capture, contain, and return the marine beasts to their homeland without the Muggles becoming aware. Though the problem had eventually been solved, it had taken a substantial amount of time and attention away from her other tasks, and she’d been playing catch-up all week.

Draco pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “You alright, love?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, perfectly content right where she was, enjoying the feel of his embrace and the chance to be close to him again.

“Okay, so, tomorrow,” Dean piped up from his seat on the floor next to the coffee table where he and Anthony were putting together a jigsaw puzzle that would eventually create a scene from Star Wars, which was one of the former Gryffindor’s favorite movie series, “I think it would be smart to do some practice rounds of the games we’re going to play with the Seconds during the cookout. That way you lot can each be in charge of different ones while I man the grill.”

“I want to learn how to grill things!” Theo complained.

“You will, don’t worry,” Dean chuckled, “Burgers for thirty-some people will take quite a while, but I still need others to run the games.”

“What are we playing?” Padma asked.

Hermione rallied enough to answer, “Bocce, croquet, Frisbee, horseshoes, badminton, football, and volleyball. I think that’s it?” She cast a questioning glance at Dean who nodded in confirmation.

“Exactly right,” Dean grinned, “All the games are set for four or six players, except for football, which really can take as many as want to play, but I figured we’d save that one for later on.”

“I think a practice round would be great, since football and bocce are the only two I’m at all familiar with,” Draco admitted and his statement was met with multiple nods and sounds of agreement.

“That’s set then,” Dean announced, “After breakfast, we’ll head out and pick a spot for it all, and I’ll show you the games. They’re all pretty easy.”

“That sounds great, Dean,” Hannah yawned widely, “Thanks!”

Several more yawns followed in quick succession and everyone laughed at the contagious reaction. Neville stood and stretched, having been slumped in one of the chairs with Hannah leaning against his legs, and offered his hand to her. She took it and hopped up, which seemed to signal it was time for everyone to turn in for the night, as others started leaving their comfortable perches.

Eventually, goodnights were called out and most doors were closed, but Draco and Hermione hadn’t moved from their corner of the sofa. The petite witch had sunk back into her sleepy haze after giving her input on the games, and the wizard beside her was loathe to disturb the peaceful moment, instead settling for twirling one of her curls repeatedly around his finger while staring unseeingly at the fire crackling in the hearth. He loved being with her like this – just quietly sitting together, entirely at ease with one another, nowhere to go and nothing pressing to concern themselves with. He looked forward to the day when this could be a more regular occurrence; when it wouldn’t matter if they fell asleep on the sofa in their own living room… when he could wake up hours later and bring her to bed with him…

She stirred and stretched her arm across his waist while rubbing her cheek in his shirt and making a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

“I don’t want to move,” she grumbled.

“I’m not making you,” he teased quietly.

“I know, but we should go to bed.”

“Okay,” he agreed, but didn’t move and neither did she. Several beats passed before she lifted her head and met his pewter gaze with her own, heavy-lidded one. The soft smile on her face melted his heart and he dipped his chin to capture her lips in a kiss he intended to remain fairly chaste. Apparently, his witch had other ideas.

Hermione shifted up so she was more on level with him, and angled her face to deepen the kiss, bringing one hand up to caress the side of his face before reaching around his neck to toy with the hair right above his collar. In response, he wrapped one arm around her waist and brought the other up so he could sink his fingers into her curls. They stayed like that, fingers exploring and tongues dancing, for a few minutes, their tempo slow and unhurried as they basked in the sensations growing between them.

Eventually, the opening of a door brought them back to reality and they spotted Neville on his way to the boys’ loo.

“Don’t mind me,” he called out, pointedly not looking at them and waving a hand in dismissal as he disappeared into the bath.

Draco sniggered and Hermione huffed in mild embarrassment, and both took that as their cue to turn in. He walked her to her door but refused to say goodnight without several more kisses and a long embrace, during which he wrapped himself completely around her and buried his face in her curls, savoring the feel of her in his arms and reminding himself that one day, this could be every day.

When he finally let her go and her door clicked shut, he strolled across the Room to his own chambers, meeting Neville along the way.

“Glad to see things are still going strong with you two,” the friendly Herbologist grinned.

Draco nodded and smiled in return, “Me, too.”

“I can definitely see you guys together long-term. You know, married, with kids, and all that,” Neville professed.

“That’s the plan,” Draco said without a second thought, and then caught himself. He’d not really shared anything like that with anyone besides Harry and Bill, mostly because he’d not wanted Hermione to find out what he was plotting, but he knew Neville wouldn’t say anything.

“Really?” hazel eyes flew wide but a beaming smile immediately followed, “That’s fantastic. Good on you, mate!” He clapped Draco on the shoulder, “Any idea when?”

“Soon,” was all Draco was willing to give at the moment, but it seemed to be enough for his fellow staff member, who nodded excitedly.

“Well, let me know how it goes once it happens.”

“Absolutely,” he promised.

With that, they went their separate ways, and Draco fell asleep that night with visions of sparkling rings and warm chocolate eyes filling his head.

ooOoo

Saturday found the ten friends in the midst of a crash course on traditional lawn games. Dean, who had grown up playing all of the versions he was introducing his former housemates to, had grossly underestimated the level of basic skills needed for certain things. For example; throwing a Frisbee properly seemed to warrant multiple demonstrations and lessons, and even then, certain folks (ahem, Theo) couldn’t seem to manage floating the plastic disc along on the breeze. Instead, it was more like a violent projectile as it hurtled, upright, towards its unsuspecting, and un-aimed-at target.

Badminton caused a whole host of other problems, as only the two members of their group who had been raised by Muggles had ever held a racquet of any sort. Hermione and Dean showed everyone how to bat the little, plastic “birdie” back and forth over the net, but as soon as those tools were handed over to their counterparts, they turned into weapons. Daphne repeatedly flung the whole racquet when attempting to hit the shuttlecock, and Anthony whacked the thing so hard it disappeared into the woods and had to be summoned back.

Volleyball was another adventure. Hermione had suggested they use a beach ball instead of a real volleyball, and it turned out to be a very good thing. Being lighter and therefore less dangerous, it didn’t hurt nearly as much when one got smacked in the face with it (Neville) or when it ran straight into one’s stomach (Padma). The only game that was tried without incident was bocce, which was, by far, the tamest. Even croquet presented a set of unique challenges, with Theo needing to reign in his enthusiasm, since he kept causing his ball to roll halfway down the lawn, and Hannah being so worried about over-shooting that it took a dozen tries for her to even reach the “wicket” (or hoop).

After being out there for over four hours, Dean decided not to even attempt a mini football game, and settled for a demonstration of horseshoes with Hermione, while the rest of the crew sat on the grass to watch. Each of them were in various stages of sweaty disarray, and Luna commented that she didn’t think she’d ever seen them all so disheveled before. This, of course, meant Hannah needed a group photo, complete with rosy cheeks, messy hair, grass-stained clothing, and exhausted grins. Afterwards, they all trudged back up to the Room to wash up and crash until supper.

“So, are we playing a game tonight?” Theo asked the group at large after he emerged from the loo, his hair still damp from his recent shower.

Dean let out a tired groan, “I was kind of hoping the numerous games we just played outside would suffice, to be honest.” Everyone chuckled and agreed that their afternoon entertainment had been more than adequate, and they were happy to spend the evening relaxing and simply hanging out together. Everyone except Theo.

“But what about the points? Aren’t we supposed to announce the winner and all that?” he huffed indignantly.

“Ah, yes, so we are,” Dean smirked, unmoving from his comfortable prone position on the couch.

“Well??” the lanky jokester persisted.

“I was planning on presenting awards tomorrow after the cookout, if that’s agreeable to you,” he arched a brow at Theo who rolled his eyes and flung himself down on the floor in front of Luna’s chair.

“I suppose,” he grumbled, earning a round of sniggers.

“Will we see each other in July and August?” Daphne inquired, changing the subject, and looking around to see if her friends had any thoughts on the matter.

“We absolutely could,” Hermione replied, mulling over the possibilities. “We could always meet at the Leaky one night, or somewhere else, or I could possibly talk Harry into having another get-together.”

“We could have everyone round to ours again,” Luna offered and her young husband nodded vigorously in agreement.

“I could maybe talk Gran into letting me host a weekend,” Neville tossed out there tentatively, “If that’s something you lot would be interested in?”

“Oooh, that would be fun,” Padma beamed.

“Would she mind having us all invade her space?” Draco knew how particular the elderly and very formidable witch was.

“She’s gotten… better… in the last few years,” Neville was clearly choosing his words carefully, but Hannah spelled it out for them.

“Augusta is much less terrifying than she used to be,” the sweet Hufflepuff assured them, “I’ve been round for dinner and tea and even a couple of weekends, and she’s been nothing but pleasant. I think surviving a second war; one in which her grandson not only participated, but survived and played a major part in the winning of; has loosened her up a bit. Not having to worry about Neville’s future has allowed her to enjoy life a bit more.”

“Well, if you think she’d be alright with it, I say we should go for it,” Anthony grinned widely and Neville nodded firmly in confirmation.

“I’ll talk to her soon as term is over and I’m back home.”

As conversation turned to the plans some of the others had for the Summer, Draco let his mind drift towards his own intentions. If everything went the way he hoped, in barely a month’s time the curly-haired beauty currently sitting next to him would officially be his fiancée. The thought sent his heart rate skyrocketing, and made his stomach feel like he’d just taken a steep dive on his broom, and he wasn’t quite able to keep his expression neutral – something his favorite witch noticed.

“What are you smirking about?” she teased.

“Nothing,” he tried to shrug it off, “Just looking forward to spending time at the Longbottom’s if that all works out.” He could tell she was trying to determine if that’s all he really had been thinking of, but before she could question him further, he leaned down and kissed her. As much as he adored spending time with her, and missed her when she was gone, he was actually thankful for the separation the next few weeks would bring. He didn’t think he could manage to keep things a secret if she was around all the time.

ooOoo

“Alright, Draco, if you’ll be in charge of bocce, and Anthony you take croquet, Padma, you can do horseshoes. Neville and Hannah and Theo and Luna can tag-team the volleyball and badminton, since they’re right next to each other, and Daph, you can run Frisbee. That leaves Hermione and me to float around and offer assistance wherever needed,” Dean stood before them, clipboard in hand, whistle around his neck, and a no-nonsense expression on his face.

"Only until you need me to help set things on fire!" Theo reminded him enthusiastically, to which Dean rolled his eyes and huffed with good-natured exasperation. 

"Yes, only till then," he promised.

He’d gathered his former classmates after breakfast to give them a run-down of the schedule for the day, as well as their individual responsibilities. Hermione couldn’t help but snicker to herself as she took in the sight around her. Dean had requested they all dress like typical Muggles going to a bar-b-que, which meant shorts and t-shirts, trainers and baseball caps. The girls seemed to have managed just fine, even if Luna’s romper was a distracting shade of tangerine orange, but the boys were a menagerie of fashion faux paus. Their fearless game-planner looked perfectly normal in his olive green cargo shorts, light grey t-shirt, and Nikes. Draco, having consulted with Harry about this prior to the weekend, was successful as well in his red, Beckham jersey, a pair of black Bermuda shorts, and the trainers he’d worn to the match. The other three wizards, however, needed a bit of help.

Anthony had apparently braved a Muggle clothing shop on his own, but wasn’t about to ask anyone for help, so he’d basically grabbed the first outfit he’d thought passable, bought it, and that was that. He hadn’t even tried it on leading up to the weekend, so when he appeared in a pair of royal blue shorts that looked two sizes too small, and a white t-shirt that was actually from the women’s department, no one could contain their laughter. Through mirthful tears, Dean transfigured his attire so the shorts actually reached a respectable length, and turned the top into a polo. Having forgotten entirely about what he’d wear on his feet, the mortified Ravenclaw allowed Hermione to turn his regular loafers into a pair of grey, low-top Converse.

Neville had gone in the opposite direction, being concerned that his wardrobe might be too revealing, and came up with a pair of denim shorts that reached half-way down his calves, and a button-down, Hawaiian shirt that could have fit two of him side-by-side. Again, Hermione came to the rescue, casting a simple resizing charm so the items fit him better, and (with his permission) turned his dragonhide boots into canvas trainers similar to Anthony’s.

Theo’s attempt at Muggle clothing was by far the best… or worst? No one was quite sure, but it was clear that raiding Xenophilius’ closet was not the way to go. While Luna’s selection might have been eye-watering, at least it fit her properly and looked like something a normal person would wear. The garish, purple pants… shorts… bloomers… billowing out from Theo’s narrow waist and cinching with elastic a few inches below his knees looked like something Aladdin might have worn. And his decision to pair them with a lemon-yellow tank top was questionable, though he insisted it looked marvelous. Dean talked him into transfiguring the bottoms into cargo shorts in a slightly more subdued eggplant color, and gave him a charcoal grey t-shirt from his own wardrobe to swap with. The lanky Pureblood positively refused to give up his lime green flipflops, however, and even went so far as to conjure himself a pair of sunglasses with the same color frames.

They tromped their way through the castle, arms full of food hampers, tableware, game supplies, and anything else one could possibly need during a backyard grilling session, earning themselves more than a few curious looks from students they passed in the corridors. In a handful of minutes, they were back in the clearing they’d used for the bonfire, just inside the boundaries of the forbidden forest, where they’d spent the previous afternoon honing their sportsmanship skills. Dean had shrunk the grill down to roughly the size of a large lunchbox, so he’d been able to carry it with one hand, while the other balanced his trusty boombox and an extra set of speakers.

The only things they’d left set up the day before were the nets for badminton and volleyball, and the stakes in the horseshoe pit. Everything else had to be repositioned and made ready, as well as enough picnic tables and benches to seat all thirty-two of them. Hermione was determined to make it look as close to a real Muggle gathering as possible, and even went so far as to cover all the rough, wooden tables with red and white checkered cloths, and filled four, large Eskys (coolers) with ice and drinks, which stood at the end of the buffet, complete with paper plates and napkins, a tray stacked with slices of watermelon, a gigantic platter of corn on the cob, an assortment of crisps, and all the fixings for the burgers Dean would be searing over the coals in just a few minutes.

Now, all they had to do was wait for their guests to arrive....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a fun little filler to get the housemates together again, and set up for their last meeting with their Second Years. Cookouts are one of my favorite things about the warmer months, and we spend as much time outdoors as possible once winter is officially over. I think it would be rather funny to watch a bunch of magical people try to learn an assortment of yard games ;)   
> Hope this Monday is kind to everyone! Thank you all so much for reading!! <3


	88. Picnics, Prizes, and Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cookout is a great success, and the weekend winds down for the housemates.

As the noon hour approached, the happy chatter of the Eighth Years’ expected quarry floated through the trees, and suddenly the small glen was filled with boisterous salutations and excited greetings. Their grillmaster took a quick tally of how many patties he needed to cook, and got to work at once, a small crowd of interested onlookers gathered around him, with Theo hovering right next to his elbow, sporting a red apron and brandishing a large, metal spatula. In no time at all, the air was filled with the enticing aroma of char-broiled meat, and more than a few inquiries were made as to when the food would be ready. The bulk of the crew wandered between the games, trying their hand at the new forms of entertainment, and chatting with their hosts as they waited for lunch to be served.

“First round is up!” Dean called out as he handed a large pan of steaming burgers off to Theo, who brought it over to the buffet and set it down in between the buns and the array of condiments, cheeses, and corresponding vegetables.

"I flipped that one," he pointed proudly to one of the grilled offerings.

"Yes, and you dropped that one," Dean hollered, pointing to one on the grass beside the grill where he was now hurriedly tossing a second batch on the coals, and earned himself a huff and a roll of the lanky jokester's eyes.

A stampede to get in line commenced, though it took much less time for everyone to go through, due to Hermione’s foresight and setting things so they could go down both sides of the table. She hovered near the accoutrements, offering suggestions and helpful hints as the students and young adults attempted assembling their burgers, many for the first time.

“It works best if you put it on the bun before adding anything else,” she offered after she watched both Darla and Christopher put everything on theirs and then try to pick it up and slide it between the bread. “You can pick more than one,” she told Andrew, who was trying to decide between ketchup and mustard, and who beamed with satisfaction when this revelation was understood, and proceeded to douse his beef patty with both.

As the parade of picnickers reached the end of the impressive spread, a whole new round of intrigued and amazed noises were made.

“What are these?” Allison wondered, holding up a small, plastic bottle with bright pink liquid inside.

“There’s all different flavors,” Malcolm held up an orange one while looking curiously at the purple one Aiden had pulled from the ice.

“Ah, yes, those were my contribution to today’s festivities,” Draco strolled over, obviously pleased with himself. “It’s a Muggle drink, soda, and this particular brand is called Fanta. It’s sweet and bubbly, and comes in all sorts of fruit flavors.”

Murmurs of anticipation rolled through the small crowd as several more hands plunged into the ice chests in search of the carbonated novelty.

By the time those at the end of the line had filled their plates and found their seats, Dean had finished the second batch of burgers, which were placed in the pan and kept warm under a stasis charm. Everyone hailed the amateur cook with praise for his culinary skills, and more than half of them went back for another round. As always, the Eighth Years had invited Bill, Fleur, and Victoire to join them if they wished, and the small family arrived part-way through the meal. With more than enough food and several empty spots along the benches, they were quickly ensconced in friendly conversation with their younger counterparts, while enjoying the delicious picnic lunch.

“Zees is wonderful,” Fleur closed her eyes as she savored her bite of cheese-bacon-ketchup-and-pickle laden beef.

“Did you try it with onions?” Anthony asked, working his way through his second, and entirely-differently-topped burger.

“I just did lettuce, cheese, and, what was it…” Yasmine was peering back over towards the buffet, trying to figure out what she’d put on hers, “The white stuff?”

“Oh! Mayonnaise,” Draco offered sagely as he happened to be walking by on his way to grab another Fanta (his third one of the day). He’d been rather tame with his first sandwich, sticking with cheese, ketchup, lettuce, and tomato, just like he’d had with Harry at the stadium. But for his second, he decided to go all out, piling it with two kinds of cheese, bacon, steamed onions, pickles, mustard, mayo, ketchup, and a single jalapeno slice, just so he could experience one spicy bite. It had been glorious. It was virtually impossible to see the meat beneath the mountain of toppings, and he had staunchly ignored the wide-eyed stares and stifled chortles of the Seconds around him as he’d used his hand to flatten the monstrosity enough to fit it in his mouth.

Once lunch had been thoroughly ingested and enjoyed, Hermione began explaining the various games they’d be playing in more detail so everyone would know what all they had to choose from, and the former housemates took that as their cue to take their places at their previously assigned locations. Dean gave a few general rules and tips, and then asked the younger crew to find partners and choose a starting point. A handful of beats later, and everyone was submerged in the nuances of backyard activities, complete with lots of laughter, cheering, good-natured groaning, and unique victory dances taking place in every quarter. Around four o’clock, play was halted and everyone gathered around the friendly Gryffindor as he thanked them all for coming and said that, as much as he hated to tell them, it really was time to be packing it in and they should say their goodbyes. A bit of whinging and protesting occurred, but as usual, they all followed suit and sought out their mentors for last hugs and farewells and promises to keep in touch over the Summer.

So caught up were they in the year’s finale, that no one noticed the Headmistress as she entered the clearing. She didn’t really mind, however, since it gave her a chance to observe the large group in their element – wide smiles on their faces, eager voices engaged in chatter, and many embraces going ‘round. The stern witch knew the Seconds had gotten extremely close with their own mentors, but it was clear from the scene in front of her that they all shared a strong bond, no matter who they’d originally been assigned to. She took note of Theo having an animated conversation with Andrew, who was one of Neville’s charges, and across the way watched Hermione and Luna passing out hugs to each other’s young friends. This was what the program had been all about, and it warmed McGonagall’s heart tremendously to see it carried out to such great fruition.

At that moment, Daphne spotted the former Transifiguration Professor and hurried over to greet her.

“Hello, Headmistress,” she smiled warmly, “What brings you out here? We’ve still got lunch set out, if you’d like something to eat?”

“Thank you, dear, but no, that’s quite alright,” McGonagall quirked a small smile in return, “I had meant to come down earlier, but even on Sundays, nothing goes according to plan.” She huffed in obvious annoyance, but shook her head and refocused her thoughts, “I simply wanted to see how you all were getting on. I can see today’s event… a cooking out? Is that what it’s called?”

“A cookout, yes,” Daphne offered.

“Yes, well, it looks to have been a successful venture,” the headmistress nodded, her keen eyes surveying the abandoned games and still-full buffet, as well as the mildly smoking grille off to one side.

A few of the Seconds noticed their Commander-in-Chief by that point, and took that as a sign that they needed to be making their way back to the castle. Several of them snagged another Fanta from the cooler, and a few more couldn’t resist one last slice of watermelon, or a bag of crisps as they began the trek back up the lawn. Many smiles, waves, nods, and greetings of “Hello, Headmistress!” greeted the older witch as she stood near the path they meant to take and she realized with a bit of a surprise that this was something new, as well. In previous years, students simply gave her a wide berth while keeping their eyes averted, and those who ran directly across her path offered no more than a polite nod or a muttered greeting. For as much as she approved of structure and formality, this increased level of acknowledgement and regard was… nice. She allowed a small smile to curve her lips as she haled the students in return and refused to consider the notion that she was going soft in her old age.

Once the younger bunch was gone, the recent graduates converged on their former professor and entreated her to sit with them at one of the long, wooden tables. She did, and over the course of the next thirty minutes, while Summer plans and next year’s Game Nights were discussed, they also talked her into trying one of Dean’s grilled masterpieces, as well as a bottle of pineapple Fanta. As much as she tried to hide it, there was no mistaking the glint of enjoyment that flashed behind her spectacles as she tackled her inaugural cookout meal with as much decorum as one can manage while eating a hot, dripping burger, and drinking soda from a bottle.

Everyone agreed to keep the third weekend of the month as the regular gathering date, and tentative plans were set to meet at the castle in September for the first one of the new school year.

“I do realize,” McGonagall stated while primly patting her lips with a napkin, “That as time goes on, you may night be able to keep this routine up, and that is completely understandable. For however long you are able to continue, though, I want you to know how much I appreciate the efforts you have made with your young charges. This year’s batch of mentors and First Years was also extremely successful, and though they have not made mention of returning here for regular visits, I know they do intend to keep in touch in the months to come. The Sixth Years are already clamoring for information regarding their own pairings for next term, as the Peer Mentoring program seems to have become as widely anticipated as becoming a Prefect, or captaining a team.” She gazed fondly at the ten young people surrounding her, “That is all thanks to you and the tremendous work you did last year, and I feel quite certain in saying the positive results and repercussions will be felt for many years to come.”

“I think I can speak for all of us,” Neville glanced around at all of his friends who were equal parts proud and touched by the sentiments of the Headmistress, “When I say we’ve truly enjoyed it. They’re a great bunch, the Seconds, and they made it right easy last year, since none of us had a clue what we were doing.” His wry chuckle earned other sniggers and smirks around the table.

“I didn’t know what to expect when we were told about the program, but it turned out to be wonderful,” Hannah beamed, “I know we all come back here to hang out with each other, but I really do look forward to seeing them every time.” Sounds of agreement and emphatic nods accompanied her statement.

“I think they helped us get through last year as much as we might have helped them, sometimes even more,” Hermione said in a thoughtful tone, and everyone was quick to concur. Each one of them had, at numerous times during that Eighth Year, hit bumps in the road that could have dragged them down, but having two or three youngsters depending on them gave them something else to focus on. Sometimes, meeting an eleven-year-old for lunch, where they would talk about gobstones, or practical jokes, or Filch’s latest rant, was exactly what they needed to take their mind off a stressful assignment, or a haunting nightmare.

“Well, I thank you all, sincerely,” McGonagall met each of their eyes for a beat before hoisting herself up from the bench. Draco leant her a hand and then walked with her towards the path after she’d said goodbye to everyone, answering a few questions about the Defense exams that would be taking place that week. Once the formidable witch had started back towards the castle, he turned around to see the clearing had been almost completely cleaned up already. In one small duffel bag, all the game accessories had been shrunken down and tucked away, and in a single, wicker hamper sat a miniature grille, tables, benches, and coolers, all stored until the next time they were needed.

“This cookout was a fantastic idea,” Anthony announced, “I wouldn’t mind having another whenever we get together this summer.”

“Maybe we could do that at yours?” Padma asked Neville and he shrugged with a grin.

“Don’t see why not.”

The band of former housemates strolled back up to the castle in unhurried fashion, since they still had quite a bit of time to spare. Dean had intentionally ended the cookout early so they would all have a chance to pack up and reconvene in the Room where Game Night prizes would be awarded. Once back in their dormitory, everyone took a few minutes to freshen up after being out in the hot sun all afternoon, and shortly after were comfortably settled in their usual spots around the coffee table.

Hermione and Dean were the last to arrive, both bustling out of their chambers with their arms full of celebratory items.

“Alright,” their Activities Director proclaimed, “Here’s the points for this school year.” He waved his wand and the large parchment they’d been keeping track on appeared by his side, complete with all the rows and columns, game titles and players’ names, as the year before. There were fewer points to tally, solely because they’d had a couple of months without anything to add, like April when they all went to Luna and Theo’s wedding. But on the whole, there were still fairly high scores at the end, and some unexpected results.

“Everyone ready?” Dean asked, poised to cast the spell that would display everyone’s total, and nine voices joined in a unified chorus of ‘yes!’ With a flick of his wrist, the final column of numbers appeared, and after a few seconds of contemplative silence, reality settled among them.

“I’ve won again!” Theo crowed, punching his fists into the air and hopping around in a small circle.

“I came in second?” Daphne was stunned, “How in Godric’s good name did I manage that?”

“It’s more believable than the fact that I got third!” Neville commented in utter surprise.

“Yes, well, if you look at the points for each game or activity, you can see what put you ahead at one point,” Dean explained, and he was right. Daphne had earned a substantial amount of points during the weekend of video gaming, and Neville had racked up more than anyone else with the baby food challenge, and had gained a bigger lead during their second round of Dungeons and Dragons, where Dean awarded points for successful ideas and plans carried out during the quest.

“If you’ll all take your places, please,” Hermione requested in an official tone, hefting the objects in her arms a little higher to indicate she’d like to be getting on with it. The three winners scrambled into their expected spots in front of the fireplace, where Dean placed the traditional medals around their necks and Hermione gifted Daphne and Neville with gift bags full of sweets and snacks, and travel-sized versions of Hungry Hungry Hippos, which she’d found randomly one day while running errands in London.

Theo received another trophy, which he declared would be placed right next to the first one, on a shelf reserved for his growing collection of prizes. This time, instead of Pictionary, he was given an expansion pack for Dungeons and Dragons that left him completely speechless for several seconds, before he tackled both Gryffindors in a back-cracking hug.

“This is amazing,” he told them both, bright sincerity shining in his dark eyes, “You two really have gone to too much trouble.”

“Not at all, Theo,” Hermione beamed at him, thrilled with how happy he was about his winnings.

“Knew you’d appreciate having that,” Dean nodded at the game clutched tightly in Theo’s hand. “Bring it to the weekend at Neville’s, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” the lanky brunette grinned.

“Picture time!” Hannah called out, and as was common for the eclectic group of friends, they all bunched up together in front of the hearth, laughing and teasing one another while everyone got situated. Theo struck a dramatic pose, reminiscent of Captain Morgan, while Anthony got a face-full of Padma’s hair, Daphne couldn’t seem to stop giggling, and Draco was elbowed in the stomach as Neville tried to shuffle into a better spot.

It might be the end of another school year, but some things clearly weren’t about to change.

ooOoo

Draco and Hermione strolled through the corridors at a leisurely pace after saying goodbye to their housemates, most of whom were already making their way to the Headmistress’ office to use the floo. Hannah and Neville were off to the greenhouses, where the herbologist-in-training was eager to show off his latest batch of blooming Aconite and a newly-acquired tray of Snargaluff saplings. Daphne had promised Fleur she would stop by the family’s apartment so she could fill her in on the latest happenings at Gladrags, while Padma, Anthony, and Dean were all headed back to their respective homes. Theo and Luna had been the first to leave, sighting a need to tend to the newest creatures that lived with them, especially after having been away for two and a half days.

“Hopefully, Dante won’t have managed to escape his pen,” Luna mused thoughtfully as they gathered around for final sentiments. “We put substantial charms and wards on it, but you never know. He might have convinced the Plimpies to help him out by now. They’re very agile, you know.”

Draco flashed a look at Theo, who was clearly biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, as was he. The pale blonde had shared his fishing adventure with Edward with his long-time friend on Friday, and the two of them found the reeling-in of the ridiculous creature to be incredibly funny. Imagining the odd things trying to do something like helping a Fire Crab escape his magical enclosure was quite entertaining, to say the least.

Now, however, the young couple was on their own, and all the more pleased for it. With the school term coming to a close, there was a bit of uncertainty about when exactly they would see each other again.

“How about the weekend of the fourteenth?” Draco suggested, trying to infuse a casual lightness to his tone.

“I think that will be alright,” Hermione pondered the idea, “I don’t currently have any new international cases to work on, and if I let Gethsemane know tomorrow that I plan to be out of town that weekend, she won’t assign something that would keep me abroad on Friday.”

“Sounds like a plan, then,” his heart was racing and he hoped she didn’t notice that his palm had just gone rather sweaty.

“What shall we do then?” she smiled up at him sweetly and he had to school his features into something benign.

“I’m sure Teddy will be happy to occupy at least a little bit of your attention,” he teased, “but perhaps we could spend some time at the pond? If it’s warm enough, we could even go for a swim.”

“That would be wonderful,” she beamed and popped up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Needing to change the subject, lest he blurt out his grand plans for their next visit with each other, he tried to come up with something pertinent, “I’m looking forward to the house party at the Longbottom estate, too.” He truly was, though he couldn’t care less about it right then.

“Oh, me, too!” Hermione agreed at once, “I’ve never been out there, but Hannah says it’s lovely, and that even though it feels a bit like a museum with all the antique furniture and expensive knickknacks, it’s still very nice.”

“I’ve never been, either. From what Neville has described, it’s roughly the same size as the Manor, or Theo’s place.”

“How’s that all going?” the petite witch wondered and it took Draco a beat to comprehend what she was asking about.

“Theo’s estate?” She nodded in response so he shared what he knew, “Last we spoke of it was the day of his stag party. At that point, he’d sold off all the other properties, and most of the artwork and furniture from the main house. He was going to continue having his solicitor get rid of whatever was left, but I don’t think he’s made the house available for purchase yet. That will be next.”

“If it’s anything like yours, it makes me a bit sad to think of such a grand home sitting empty. I could think of a dozen uses for a building like that; ones that would breathe new life and purpose back into its very foundation.” There was a telltale gleam in her eyes that he recognized and wondered just what her formidable brain was whipping up at the moment.

“I’m sure you could, love,” he pressed a kiss to her curls, “Theo just doesn’t have any desire to keep a connection to it anymore. I can’t say I blame him.”

“Oh, I don’t, either. It’s entirely understandable, what he’s doing,” she was quick to amend her perceived stance, “He and Luna seem thoroughly happy at hers, though perhaps one day they’ll add on. The place doesn’t seem big enough to raise a family, especially if Xeno continues to live there in between his travels around the globe.”

“True,” Draco mused, “They could definitely add on, or even build an entirely separate house nearby on the grounds. The Lovegoods have a substantial bit of property.”

“Not quite as much as you do, I’d wager,” she smirked at him and he gave a low snigger.

“No, not quite,” he huffed a sheepish sigh, “The Malfoy boundaries encompass the largest single-family owned acreage in Britain.”

She blinked owlishly for a few seconds before snorting indelicately, “Why does this not surprise me?”

“In our defense, a substantial portion of it is wooded, and even more importantly, protected as a natural reserve due to the variety of magical creatures that live in the forests there.”

“What kind of creatures?” she couldn’t hide her curious enthusiasm, and he chuckled fondly at the bright expression on her face.

“Well, several more common species, such as Bowtruckles, Fairies, and Streelers, to start, but we’ve also got a small herd of Porlocks, a sizeable number of Golden Snidgets, and have even been known to shelter a Unicorn or two,” he couldn’t help the smug grin on his face as she stared at him in sheer wonder.

“How have you never told me this before?” she gaped, “You know where I work, yes?”

He laughed outright, “Yes, love, but we’ve not had any issues on our land in decades, so it’s not like you’d need to file a report or anything.”

“Maybe you can take me on a bit of a magical creature safari this summer,” she nudged him with her elbow and he grinned and nodded.

“I’m quite sure that could be arranged,” he had to curb his giddy excitement and make it seem as if he was only now contemplating the idea of wandering into the woods with her, “You know, we might catch a glimpse of a few of them if we picnic in my favorite spot again.”

“Oooh, that would be lovely,” she looked thoroughly pleased with the prospect and he high-fived himself in his head for planting the idea so seamlessly.

“That’s settled, then. A picnic in the wild, where we shall scout for all manner of beasts and beings,” he swooped in and kissed her soundly as they rounded the last corner on their way to McGonagall’s office.

Just as they reached the entrance to the spiral stairs, pounding footsteps could be heard coming from the opposite direction, and as they both turned to see who it was, Malcolm and Aiden came charging into view. The two boys skidded to a halt and fixed Draco with wide-eyed gazes.

“Coach Malfoy, we need your help,” Aiden’s words were rushed and urgent as Malcolm nodded in vehement agreement.

“What’s going on?” the Flying Instructor asked with great concern. They had just seen the students barely three hours earlier and he couldn’t imagine what problem had arisen since then.

“We were all going back to our common rooms after supper,”

“And Andrew mentioned he had a brand new deck of Exploding Snap cards,”

“So we all decided to play for a bit in Gryffindor Tower.”

The boys were talking over one another, both desperate to get the whole tale out there so whatever was wrong could be put to rights.

“When we finished, we all started back to our dormitories,”

“But we got caught up on the moving stairs.”

“Christopher is stuck with his leg in the vanishing step!”

“And Rory got left on a landing across the way, and now he can’t get down!”

“And Andrew tried to help, but then he tripped and fell, and we think he’s sprained his ankle!”

Having heard enough, Draco held up a hand to stall the onslaught of hysterical news, “Alright, I’ll come with you and sort it out. Go on back and I’ll follow you.”

Letting out huge puffs of relieved air, the boys nodded seriously and took off running back the way they came. The tall wizard turned to the petite brunette by his side with an apologetic look, “I suppose I should go get them out of this little quandary.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” she smirked at him, “Coach Malfoy, off to save the day again.” Stepping in front of him, she fisted the front of his football jersey and tugged him down, closer to her level, “Have I told you how much I adore you in this shirt?” Before he could respond, she met his lips with her own in a searing kiss that was over far too soon for his liking.

“Off with you, then,” she murmured as she pulled away, her eyes sparkling and a tiny smile quirking her mouth.

“Right,” he cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the snog-induced haze she’d pulled him into. He grinned wolfishly, “Next time, you won’t be able to get rid of me so easily.”

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” she replied cheekily and, with one more quick kiss to his slightly swollen lips, she flounced around him and up the stairs to take the floo home.

Chuckling to himself, Draco strode off quickly in the direction his young charges had come from, half his mind on the random situation he needed to deal with at the moment, and the other half firmly fixed on the feeling of Hermione in his arms, the next time that would happen, and the surprise he had in store for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Excited flailing happening over here!) Two chapters left, folks!!! I'm just so happy for this sweet couple and what's in store for them :) I also love how Draco takes every opportunity to share his new knowledge of Muggle things (the telly, the bocce game, the mayonaise, lol). It's a bit of his younger self - how he always prided himself on being the most informed - but it also shows just how far he's come and how hard he's tried to make the changes he promised himself when he was still in prison.   
> Next week we will finish this story up (I cannot believe we've finally reached this point!) and then we'll launch straight into the third and final installment of the series. Thank you so much for reading and keeping me company on this crazy ride! <3


	89. The End Result

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school term comes to an end, and Draco returns to the Manor to await Hermione's arrival.

Exams were upon the students of Hogwarts, and though there was the usual amount of cramming, late-night study sessions, panicked questions, and hurried trips to the library, the air about the castle was still one of happy anticipation. Summer was almost within grasp, and every spare moment was spent out of doors, soaking in the sun’s warm rays, and dreaming about the weeks ahead where free time would abound.

Draco took quite a few of those spare moments to prepare for his return to the Manor, as well as his upcoming position in the Gringott’s Curse Breaker training program. He’d read the entire book Bill had given him, and now had an whole notebook filled with notes and questions about the fascinating theories Kowalski had come up with. To say he was eager to get started was a massive understatement, but he knew he needed to pace himself. He doubted Carson would let him loose to try his hand at hypothetical solutions for dangerous, cursed objects right off the bat, but he looked forward to discussing what he’d read with the energetic wizard whenever their schedules allowed.

Since he’d be returning the castle at the end of August, he didn’t need to pack much – just some clothes and personal items (like his two-way journal, and a couple of picture frames he wanted to put in his bedroom). And, of course, the ring.

Taking pity on his anxious friend, Harry had shown up Monday afternoon with the custom piece of jewelry, instead of making him wait till Thursday to see it. Draco had been positively speechless when he first laid eyes on it, unable to formulate words to describe how perfect it was, and wholly overwhelmed with a nervous, overjoyed, slightly nauseous feeling. He wanted to laugh, cry, and throw up all at the same time, while simultaneously desiring nothing more than to apparate straight to Hermione’s side and ask her right then and there to marry him.

His former nemesis seemed to understand all this without a single word spoken between them, green eyes glittering with knowing mirth while Draco attempted to speak several times, to no avail. Finally, after gaping like a fish for a solid minute, he found his voice.

“Thank you, Potter. You didn’t have to bring it here today.”

“I know, but I figured you’d like to see it as soon as possible,” Harry shrugged.

“She’ll like it, yeah?” he couldn’t help asking.

“Definitely.”

The pale blonde let out his breath in a hard whoosh, and grinned shakily at his guest, “Only a few weeks left.”

Harry nodded, “Everything is all set for the fourteenth, and I’ll let you know soon as I’ve got them settled.”

“Perfect. Again, thank you,” Draco extended his hand, which Harry shook firmly.

“See you Thursday, then?” the amicable Auror asked as he started back towards the door.

“Yup, see you then.”

With that, Harry was gone and Draco was left standing in his sitting room, grinning at the tiny box in his hand and the sparkling ring nestled inside. He could already envision it on his favorite witch’s finger, and had to talk himself down – again – from rushing to her office and proposing. He had a plan. A rather brilliant one, if he was honest, and he wanted very much to carry it out. He also really, really wanted to do it now, but he knew he was being ridiculous. Closing the box with a sharp snap, he strode into his bedroom and tucked it into an inner pocket of the bag he was bringing most of his clothes home in. He still had exams to proctor and responsibilities to handle, and continued to give himself a stern talking-to as he swept out the door and down to the Great Hall for dinner.

That was Monday. On Tuesday, Draco had pulled the box out from its hiding place no less than five times, just to look at it. On Wednesday evening, he went so far as to bring it out and set it on his nightstand so he could glance at it while he wrote to Hermione in their journal. On Thursday, he had to force himself not to put it in his pocket and carry it around all day, and even asked Neville to tell him – very firmly – to stop being an idiot (though the friendly herbologist had no idea what he was stopping him from being an idiot _about_ ).

By Friday morning, he was quite certain he’d lost all sense of reason and was possibly going mad. That shiny little trinket had wedged its way into his subconscious and plagued him day and night. He thought about it as he strolled through the corridors, daydreamed about his proposal while overseeing exams, envisioned Hermione’s ecstatic response as he ate with his fellow staff members, and dreamt about the blasted thing at night.

Draco typically prided himself on being very even-keeled. He might be more expressive than he’d been in his younger years, and wouldn’t describe himself as stoic or aloof anymore, but he’d never identified with those who let their emotions consume them. Until now. He couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread across his face every time he let his mind wander back up to the priceless treasure waiting in his apartment, and knew he’d lost count of the number of times a student or faculty member had to make multiple attempts to get his attention, so lost was he in fanciful imaginings. He was incredibly thankful for the single-mindedness of most of the youngsters during the week, as it helped hide his complete lack of focus. Everyone just wanted to survive till the end-of-term feast, signaling the successful completion of another year and the start of a two-month holiday.

The feast was its usual, boisterous, celebratory self, complete with the awarding of the House Cup (to Ravenclaw, for the first time in many years), as well as the recognition of several students and faculty members who had earned a bit of distinction over the year. Marcus Belby was given a little send-off, with many well-wishes and a brand new telescope, a gift from the staff, as he prepared for his upcoming position at Ilvermorny.

Headmistress McGonagall had started a new tradition the previous year; one in which professors and students were encouraged to recognize those who exemplified attitudes of friendliness, compassion, helpfulness, and encouragement, all of which were even more important attributes in the wake of the Battle and reconstruction of the school, both inside and out. One student from each house was recognized every month, announced at breakfast and their photo hung on their common room bulletin board, and at the end of the year, two of that number would be chosen as “Witch and Wizard of the Year.”

Last year, a Fifth Year Hufflepuff, and a Third Year Slytherin had earned the distinction. This time, Frederick Selwyn, another Slytherin and one of Draco’s favorite students, was named, as well as Luna’s young friend, Yasmine, representing Ravenclaw. The bashfully grinning pair were given certificates with gold seals embossed at the bottom, as well as a handsome leather box containing new eagle feather quills, as their predecessors had received, too.

Draco watched the goings-on with more than a little pride for all the charges who filled the vast hall. They had come so far over the last two years, and while there were still house rivalries, stubborn competitive streaks, and pranks and quarrels common in any such environment, there was an air of camaraderie underneath it all that most definitely had not existed in his younger years. Even the oldest students, who had spent four or five years in a castle filled with animosity and prejudice, were much more willing to partner with those from other houses on projects, or engage them in friendly conversation. The change was evident everywhere one looked, and it was wonderful.

After making sure the last of the stragglers had officially left the stone structure in order to catch the train out, those employed in the ancient institution were free to officially close up their classrooms, pack their belongings, and prepare for their own departure the following day. Upon entering the Defense Against the Dark Arts space, Draco found his friend and mentor shuffling through a sizable pile of parchment on his desk.

“What can I do to help?” he asked as he approached the older wizard.

“Honestly, there’s not much to do,” Bill glanced at the room around them, “The desks are back in their normal spots, the extra books and supplies were put away yesterday, all the grading is done, and I’ve really only got this to sort through.” He tapped the pile of papers with his wand, “It’s mostly my own notes from lessons and rough drafts of tests that we tweaked. Nothing of any massive importance.”

Draco nodded in understanding as he perched on the corner of a desk in front of Bill, “Will you and Fleur stay here through the Summer?” He thought he might have actually asked this question at an earlier point in time, but being as scattered and flighty as he’d been of late, he couldn’t remember the answer.

Bill smirked knowingly, “Partly. We’ll be spending about two weeks with Fleur’s family, and another two with mine, but we’ll come back here in between. And we’ll be back a solid two weeks before terms starts, just to get Victoire settled into a good routine again. Visiting family is great fun, but it throws the daily schedule all out of whack.” He chuckled wryly, “It’ll take a fortnight to get her used to going to bed at a decent hour, and not having a revolving door of grandparents, aunts, and uncles to entertain her.”

Draco grinned, knowing a bit about what that was like due to his interactions with Teddy. He knew his aunt was always left scrambling in the wake of a long visit, as the energetic toddler preferred the rambunctious antics of his cousin and godfather to that of his much calmer, quieter grandmother and great-aunt.

“You all set with your plans?” the redhead winked at him with a wry smile.

The younger man huffed a laugh, “I think so. At this point, I just want the day to get here so I can stop second-guessing and overthinking and making myself mental over it.” They both chuckled at that, and Draco continued, “But yes, everything is good to go, as much as it can be this far out.”

“Fantastic,” Bill clapped his hands together, “You’ll have to let me know how it all goes.”

“Oh, I will,” he promised, “Just cross your fingers that I don’t lose my sanity before then.”

Bill’s let out a hearty guffaw, “I remember that same feeling. Once it’s over, you’ll wonder what you were so nervous about.”

“I’m counting on it,” Draco grinned, “If you don’t need me for anything, then, I’m going to go make sure the broom shed isn’t a total disaster.” Bill waved him away and with that, the pale blonde set off for his next destination.

He spent the remainder of his day wandering the halls and grounds, making sure his coworkers had everything they needed, since he didn’t have any other responsibilities of his own. He helped Neville organize the greenhouses a bit, and even shelved a cartful of books for Madam Pince. He was pleasantly surprised when he realized it was already time for supper, as the afternoon had passed rather quickly. The final staff meal was a relaxed and happy affair, with everyone thoroughly looking forward to a well-earned break, and bright and early the next morning, Draco made his way to McGonagall’s office in order to floo home.

“I hope you have a restful and enjoyable break, Coach Malfoy,” the stern witch offered with a slight smile, “And I look forward to hearing about any… news… you might have in the weeks to come.” The glint behind her spectacles was unmistakable and he could only grin widely in response, not even trying to pretend he didn’t know what she was referring to.

ooOoo

Teddy had been wildly excited about his cousin’s return to the Manor, and even though the little boy had absolutely no concept of time, he was ready and waiting at the foot of the curved staircase when the floo roared to life and spit out one of his favorite people.

“Ake! Ake!” he yelled, scrambling off his perch on the bottom step and bounding across the tiled entryway before flinging himself at Draco’s knees and clinging to his trousers with a vicelike grip.

“Well, hello there,” Draco dropped his bag on the floor and scooped the toddler up, earning himself an ear-splitting squeal, followed by a slew of unintelligible nonsense as Teddy was clearly telling him some very important things. With a flick of his wand, he levitated his bag to travel along beside him as he made his way up the stairs and down the hall towards his suite of rooms, his young cousin perched contentedly on his hip.

“An’ we go out?” the question was posed, and it was thankfully one Draco understood, especially since Teddy was pointing insistently at the window, where the bright sunlight streamed through the open curtains.

“I’m sure we can go outside,” he replied, “Just let me get changed, first.” He set Teddy carefully in the center of his large bed and began rummaging through his bag. Though he was loathe to admit it, the shorts he’d worn for the cookout were quickly becoming one of his favorite articles of clothing, and he knew he was going to need to get some more. He changed out of his staff uniform while the now-platinum-blonde lad continued to chatter at top speed, and once he was done, decided to unpack for as long as Teddy was entertained. He magicked his other clothes into his closet, sent his toiletries to the bath, and had just placed the few pictures he’d brought with him around the room when a gleeful shriek rent the air.

“Mine!” Teddy pointed enthusiastically at the frame now sitting on the nightstand. He scooted towards the side of the bed and repeated himself, “Mine!”

“Yes,” Draco chuckled, “That’s Hermione.” He smiled warmly at the image of the two of them from Theo and Luna’s wedding. Hannah had brought prints for all of them to their Game Night in May, and although he absolutely could have replaced one of the ones he already had in a frame, instead he decided to just get another one. At this rate, he was amassing quite the gallery of images of his girlfriend.

Teddy looked pensively at the photograph and then pinned his wide eyes on his cousin, “Mine, here?”

“Not yet, but soon,” Draco explained, and then realized that three weeks was not exactly soon to a small child. It wasn’t nearly as soon as he’d prefer it to be as an adult, either, but he knew he was being silly. Deciding a distraction was in the cards for both of them, he hoisted the little tyke up onto his shoulders, much to Teddy’s delight, and together they made their way down to the kitchens in search of a snack.

ooOoo

Owls flew between the ten housemates in the weeks that followed the end of the school year. Even though only two of their number were actually on a break, Summer has a way of feeling like a bit of a holiday for everyone. Saturdays are spent at outdoor markets and on nature hikes instead of cleaning out one’s closets. Evenings are spent around a fire pit or walking along the coast as opposed to curled up in front of the hearth with a book. It’s as if humankind is determined to squeeze every ounce of fun out of the lengthened days, and the magical population is no different in that way.

Dean had dragged a handful of his friends and coworkers off on a bit of an adventure in Cornwall one weekend, where the highlight of the stint was the 490 metre zipline over the flooded quarry. Apparently, Seamus had screamed like a girl, and one of the blokes from Magical Games and Sports (Charles) had lost his lunch as soon as he touched land again.

Daphne had successfully launched a new line of clothing that bridged the gap between Muggle fashions and Wizarding robes amazingly well. She had started taking orders from customers, because she couldn’t keep the new designs on the racks long enough, popular as they were. Padma had been sent on several out-of-town assignments, Hannah had not only passed all the Leaky’s inspections with flying colors, but had also been named Diagon Alley’s Beautification Award winner, meaning the changes she’d made and the updates she’d done had raised the standard at the centuries-old establishment so much as to garner the attention of the local authorities.

Anthony had officially ended his non-relationship with Tracey and was currently talking to another witch he wasn’t ready to name yet, but said things were going very well. Theo and Luna were now the proud owners of a new Kneazle named Snowball (apparently because it was pure white, except for its paws, which were black) and the litter of kittens born soon after her arrival. Neville had cleared the idea of a house party with his grandmother, whose only request was that no one attempt to try on the suits of armor in the East Wing, as they were rather opposed to anyone touching them, and a date had been set for the fourth weekend in July for everyone to come and stay.

Draco had given himself the first three days at home to relax and enjoy doing absolutely nothing of import before diving into the list of things he wanted to accomplish during the break. He set a meeting with Hemmings for the very first Friday, during which the solicitor brought him every file on every business the Malfoy name was associated with, no matter how small the connection. The young Pureblood intended to familiarize himself with each one, starting with the little stationery store. He had pages of notes and questions tacked to the front of each folder, and planned to go over all of it with Hemmings once he’d reached the end of the list. It was something that needed to be done, and was also, quite thankfully, something that took a lot of time and brain power, so he wasn’t prone to mooning about, fantasizing about his girlfriend and the grand gesture he was about to embark on.

Every morning, he took breakfast with the other three members of his household, followed by a walk around the grounds with Teddy. Then, he would hole up in his study for a few hours, working on his understanding of the companies and partners, typically taking lunch at his desk. An hour or so before his cousin was due to go down for a nap, Andromeda would bring the boy to him, and they would spend that time playing, exploring, reading, or doing whatever the toddler had in mind. Once Teddy was asleep, Draco would return to his work, and remain there until supper, which he joined his family for each night. After they finished, he would let the rambunctious tyke lead him to the playroom, where they would engage in the building of block towers, or racing of little cars, or charming of stuffed animals to move about, until Andromeda came to announce it was time for bed.

The days went by rapidly, something he was extremely grateful for, and even though he had the day circled on his desk calendar, it crept up on him. On the second Wednesday in July, his mother made a comment about Hermione’s upcoming visit, and Draco just about choked on his mouthful of eggs and tomato.

“Hermione?” he managed to croak out after a quick gulp of coffee.

“Yes, dear, she’s due to arrive Friday, isn’t she?” Narcissa stared at him with mild concern.

“She is, yes, of course,” he nodded emphatically and cleared his throat. “The days have gotten away from me, I suspect.”

“Well, you’ve been keeping quite busy,” Andromeda smiled at him from across the table, “Between settling your accounts and keeping this one occupied…” She trailed off as she attempted to stick a spoonful of porridge into Teddy’s mouth while simultaneously keeping him from chucking small pieces of fruit off his tray and onto the floor.

“I guess you’re right,” he sniggered at the scrunched-nose face his young cousin was making, clearly unimpressed with the breakfast offerings that morning.

“I’ve already asked Merry to freshen her room, and was thinking we would have that tomato-basil soup she likes so much for the first course at dinner,” Narcissa commented while buttering a crumpet.

“I’m sure she’ll love that,” Draco nodded, grinning.

“What time do you think you’ll venture out on Saturday?” the elegant witch asked.

“Probably just after breakfast,” he mulled this over for a second or two, “That’s what we did the last time, and she thinks we’re going to see even more of the grounds, so leaving early would make the most sense.”

“Plus, you won’t have to wait all day,” Andromeda winked at him and he gave a dry laugh.

“Too right.” He rolled his eyes, “I’m not sure how I’m going to get through Friday evening with her.”

“Oh, it will be fine, dear,” Narcissa laid a hand on his arm encouragingly, “Just spend as much time with the rest of us as you can without making it seem odd, and that will help. We’ll be a bit of a buffer.”

“I might just take you up on that,” he smirked, “Even though Hermione is far too observant and astute most of the time. Hopefully she’ll be so immersed in getting caught up with everyone, she won’t notice that I can barely sit still.”

“Mine!” Teddy yelled from his highchair, which he was now trying very hard to climb out of.

“Yes, dearie, Hermione is coming to visit in two days,” Andromeda held up two fingers and her grandson contemplated that fact for a beat.

“Mine, two?” his brow was furrowed in confusion.

“Yes, two days. Not today, not tomorrow,” she continued to try to explain.

“Mine, now?” he asked, looking towards the door as if the witch in question might suddenly appear.

“No, not now,” Andromeda said patiently.

“But,” his bright eyes filled with tears and his lower lip stuck out, “Want Mine now!”

“Believe me, Teddy, so do I,” Draco whinged from across the table, and they all chortled sympathetically, though the littlest among them did not seem pleased.

“No Mine, more ‘umpet.” Apparently he’d decided that if he couldn’t have the company of the petite brunette, he at least deserved another crumpet. Wishing to avoid a meltdown, Andromeda gave in with a sigh and handed him half of one from the plate in front of her.

Crisis avoided, talk turned to the schedule for the day, and Draco let his mind wander to the black, velvet box hidden in his nightstand drawer and the delicate hand it would soon adorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there! Ack! I can't believe it. I'm so very excited, and yet a little sad that this second story is coming to an end. But there's so much ahead for my favorite fictional couple, and I'm looking forward to sharing the last leg of their journey with you. The final chapter will be posted on Thursday, and then next week there will be a bit of a break as I get things sorted to start posting the new one. I have a one-shot I've been keeping in the wings for a while now, so I'll share that during the pause in this series :)  
> If you are interested in seeing the ring Hermione's was based off of, you can find it here: https://www.bengarelick.com/products/kirk-kara-dahlia-marquise-cut-purple-amethyst-diamond-engagement-ring (the yellow gold version).  
> Thank you again for reading and following along! I hope everyone's week is off to a good start! <3


	90. Never Any Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! The moment Draco has been waiting for, and the one Hermione has no idea is coming.

Hermione arrived at Malfoy Manor in the late afternoon on Friday. She hadn’t been entirely sure when she’d be able to leave work – it all depended on how long the two meetings she had earlier in the day lasted, and how far she was able to get with the current assignments she’d been given. Aiming for half-past four, she worked relentlessly from the minute she’d arrived, through lunch, and steadily into the latter part of the day. However, at two-thirty, Gethsemane poked her head in the door and demanded her star employee cut out early, insisting she’d earned it after staying late almost every night for the past two weeks.

Grinning sheepishly, the Golden Girl thanked her boss for the early exit and, after stacking everything neatly on her desk where she’d return to it Monday, made a beeline for the Auror Department, where she could floo directly back to Grimmauld. Having packed her bag the day before, she took a few minutes to change, freshen up, and leave a note for Harry (who had been out on a case when she breezed through his hallway) before whirring away in a flash of green smoke.

As a result, she was unsurprised that no one was immediately there to greet her, though Merry appeared mere seconds later with a wide smile and dainty curtsy.

“Hello, Miss! I is so happy to see you again; please, may I take your bag?” the tiny Elf asked.

“Oh, thank you, Merry. It’s lovely to see you again, as well,” the pretty witch replied. “Do you know where Draco is?”

“Yes, Miss. He is in the library. Shall I take you to him?”

“I can find my way, but thank you,” she smiled warmly at the helpful creature and set off in search of her favorite wizard. She found him, a few minutes later, standing in front of a set of shelves at the far side of the vast space, and though she made no attempt to hide her approach, he was clearly immersed in his own thoughts and didn’t notice her presence until she was only a few feet behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, not really expecting to see anyone there, and did a double-take when he registered that it was his girlfriend. Snapping the book in his hands shut with a loud clap, he dropped it on the shelf and swept her into his arms.

“I didn’t know you’d arrived,” he mumbled into her curls, “I thought you’d be getting her later.”

“Me, too, but Gethsemane kicked me out, so I figured I’d just come on ahead. I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay. You can come here anytime you want,” he insisted, leaving a trail of kisses from below her right ear, across her cheek and the bridge of her nose, down the other side to her left, making her giggle the whole time.

“Good to know,” she squirmed as his breath tickled her neck. “How’ve you been? Anything new or exciting going on? Any big events coming up?”

The line of questioning was entirely innocent, but Draco’s heart just about stopped. He was very glad his face was still hidden in the curve of her shoulder so she couldn’t see the panicked, wide-eyed stare he knew had just settled over his features.

“Mmmhmmm,” he hummed, willing his pulse to return to normal, “There’s this famous witch coming to spend the weekend. Quite the celebrity. She’s brilliant and gorgeous and a heroine to boot.” By the time he’d finished speaking, his lips had found their way back to hers and he initiated a long and leisurely kiss that rendered her response unnecessary.

When at last they did pull apart, he didn’t give her the chance to repeat her inquiry, thinking the more he could keep the focus off himself, the better, and so he immediately jumped to a whole new topic.

“Have you seen Mother? Or Andromeda? Or Teddy? He’s been asking about you since I first got home,” he laced his fingers through hers and tugged her gently towards the library doors, obviously going in search of the rest of his family. She was more than happy to comply and didn’t seem to find it the least bit odd that he cut their snogging short.

“I’ve brought something for Teddy,” she told him as they walked down the carpeted hallway, “I hope Andromeda doesn’t hate me – it has several parts and makes a little noise.”

“Andromeda could never hate you, and if it’s too loud, she can just silence it,” he offered, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

They found the rest of the household in the sitting room, where Teddy was still waking up from his nap, but as soon as he spotted Hermione, he practically flew off his grandmother’s lap in his rush to reach the newcomer.

“Mine! Mine!” he shrieked and flung his arms around her neck as she knelt down to greet him.

“Hello, Teddy,” she hugged him back and quickly found he wasn’t about to let go, so she greeted her hosts with the toddler still clinging to her.

“It’s so good to see you, dear,” Narcissa smiled warmly at the young woman and Andromeda mirrored her sister’s words and expression. They all settled back in for a cozy catch-up, and Hermione summoned her gift for the boy as she sat with him in her lap on the plush carpet. In no time at all, two items wrapped in brown paper and tied with blue and white twine came zooming in and landed gently on the floor within his reach.

He glanced up at her once, as if asking for permission, and Hermione simply nodded with a grin. That was all it took for Teddy to tear into the first one, which turned out to be a sorting cube – a plastic square with openings of various shapes on four sides, and a set of plastic shapes meant to be fit inside them. As each one was pushed through the correct hole, a happy sound emitted from the toy; a cheer, or a zing, or a bell. The top of the cube contained a solid panel where the on/off switch was found, and the batteries could be replaced, and the bottom was a door that popped open so the shapes could be dumped out.

Teddy was fascinated and played with the new object for over half an hour, which gave the adults a decent chance to fill one another in on any news or stories they wished to share. As Draco was finishing his update about the recent meeting he’d had with the Muggle owner of the stationery store, the second still-wrapped gift was taken notice of, and conversation halted for a few minutes while Hermione helped Teddy sort it out.

This one was a tub of building bricks called Duplos, which were again, plastic, and came in an array of bright colors, and stacked on top of one another quite sturdily due to the little knobs that stuck out of the top of each one, and into the bottom of another. It came with two tiny people, and even a car for them to ride in. Hermione showed Teddy how to put them together and made a small house for one of the figures, which he found hilarious.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Draco joined them on the floor and in quick succession, built a bridge for the car to travel under, several more houses, and a garage. His cousin contentedly followed after him, picking up each new structure and dutifully pulling it apart while the next one was being formed. By the time Merry called them to the dining room, the tall wizard was sure he’d rebuilt at least fifteen homes, four garages, and one extra bridge.

“Both of those were toys I had when I was little,” Hermione explained to the two sisters as they sat at the elegantly-set table. “The sorting cube didn’t make noises then, but otherwise it was exactly the same. And the Duplos were my favorite. I played with those all the time, and graduated to Legos by the time I started primary school. I loved creating miniature scenes and acting out the stories in my head with the figures.” She chortled to herself, “Just don’t ever step on any in your bare feet. My dad still complains about his traumatic injury from a brick that got left on the living room carpet.”

“How did he not see one of those blocks?” Draco asked, bemused, “They’re rather hard to miss.”

“Oh, no, the regular Legos are much smaller,” Hermione held up her fingers to indicate the size she meant and understanding dawned. “And the corners are sharp,” she winced when she said it, remembering her own experience with the miniscule torture devices. “I learned very quickly never to leave them out on my floor at night, in case I ever needed to get out of bed.”

“I can imagine,” Andromeda commiserated with her.

Dinner passed pleasantly enough, though Draco found it difficult to stay focused on his immediate surroundings. As had become an almost constant occurrence, his mind kept drifting off to thoughts of the next day and all the pieces that needed to fall into place. He was assuming, since he hadn’t heard otherwise, that as of that moment, the Grangers were happily ensconced at the Burrow, enjoying Molly’s delicious cooking, and eagerly anticipating their journey to the Manor on Saturday afternoon.

A smile bloomed across his face as he considered this, and it did not go unnoticed.

“What’s that for,” Hermione teased, glancing at him as she cut another bite of her roast.

“I’m just happy you’re here,” he replied, meaning it wholeheartedly and praying for time to speed up.

ooOoo

He’d barely slept. He’d watched the clock on his dresser tick away the minutes long after midnight, though he wasn’t particularly bothered by it. He was too excited to sleep anyway. After a lovely walk in the rose garden, and a delicious pudding on the patio, he’d escorted his girlfriend to her room where they’d indulged in a mind-melting bit of snogging. He’d said goodnight and gotten ready for bed, where he proceeded to lay there, staring at the ceiling for hours.

He must have drifted off at some point, because his eyes opened blearily before the sun was even up, and after a few seconds in that barely-awake haze one commonly encounters, he was out of bed and jittery with nerves. He took a stupidly long shower, changed his outfit four times, re-styled his hair, made his bed without magic, and it was still only quarter-past eight. A long-suffering sigh left him as he considered the fact that absolutely no one, save for possibly Teddy, would be up this early on a Saturday. Deciding, however, that his cousin would make a most excellent distraction, he went in search of the pint-sized tyrant, and spent the next hour playing with those colorful blocks until everyone else finally arrived for breakfast.

How he endured that next stretch of time, he’d never know. Hermione looked perfect in a pair of denim shorts and a peach-colored, sleeveless top, her hair pulled back in a low, loose ponytail, the only accessory being the necklace he’d given her at Christmas. He knew other witches might have wanted a fancier occasion to mark the milestone they were about to reach, but not her. The fact that they would be in a familiar spot they both enjoyed, not to mention that he was dressed in Muggle shorts and a polo shirt (a favorite outfit of his soon-to-be fiancée), and that the moment would be entirely their own, was much more her style.

Draco had never been so thankful for his mother’s intuitive nature, as she kept the conversation flowing all throughout their morning meal, thus hiding the fact that her son could not have strung together a coherent sentence if his life depended on it. He kept shoveling over-sized forkfuls of food into his mouth so as to avoid any response beyond a shake of his head or an agreeable grunt. Andromeda helped out by letting Teddy get away with a bit more of his antics than she normally would, even going so far as to “miss” the fact that he’d grabbed the spoon from the pot of preserves and was attempting to paint the entire surface of his tray with sticky fruit spread.

Once breakfast was mercifully over, Hermione turned to her unusually quiet boyfriend, “So, is it time for our great adventure?” Her sparkling gaze took on a mildly concerned facet as his eyes bugged and he seemed unsure how to respond. Marshalling his thoughts and nerves, he quickly cleared his throat and plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face as he pushed his chair back and helped scoot hers out of the way.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

After thanking her hosts for the meal, she spent a second or two teasing Teddy with the wet corner of a napkin, and therefore missed the knowing and encouraging glances that passed from Narcissa and Andromeda to Draco. Sucking in a deep, fortifying breath, he nodded at them both and quirked a small, anxious grin, before taking Hermione’s hand and tugging her gently towards the door.

Merry met them on the patio with a picnic hamper, complete with snacks, drinks, and a blanket to sit on once they reached their destination, but the only thing Draco cared about was the box currently tucked in his pocket. He’d plotted their course out several days before, knowing that Hermione wanted to see a bit more of the estate grounds, and would find it odd if he took her directly back to the clearing. The path they followed this time started at the southern-most tip of the forest, and would wind its way eventually to the clearing, taking them through parts where they were most likely to see Snidgets, Fairies, and any Unicorns that might happen to be currently residing there. He’d take her to visit the Porlocks later, since they were all the way on the northern edge.

Forcing himself to focus on the present, and not obsess over what was to come, he answered the myriad of questions his curious witch asked about the magical reserve; how it came to be, what rules or guidelines they had to adhere to, what other species had come and gone over the years. Hermione was enthralled by the Fairies, who lived in a densely-treed acre or so, and plopped right down on the ground in the midst of their territory simply to observe them. Several were brave enough to approach her and she sat perfectly still as they fluttered around her head and shoulders. At one point, a single Fairy hovered mere inches in front of her face, and though no words were spoken, it looked as if an entire conversation was taking place, the way they studied one another. Draco just watched from a short distance away, where he leaned against an aged tree, wishing he’d brought a camera.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the grassy slope, still blooming with tiny, white flowers, still just as peaceful and welcoming as it had always been. Now that he’d reached his destination and the moment was upon him, he couldn’t figure out how to go about it. His fingers twitched at his sides, his pulse thundered in his ears, and he felt frozen in place, while his girlfriend busied herself with spreading out the blanket and making sure there weren’t any sticks or rocks underneath where they’d be sitting. She was chattering on about her encounter with the Fairies, and turned to him with a questioning look; apparently she’d asked him something, but his brain was currently sludge and he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

Unable to take it any longer, he took three, jerky steps towards her, feeling like he’d left his fine motor skills back at the house, and grasped her hands in his, peering intently into her warm chocolate eyes, trying to center himself before he asked this most important of questions.

“Draco,” her brow furrowed as she took in his serious expression, “Is everything alright?”

He nodded and swallowed with great difficulty, feeling like he couldn’t get a full breath in, “Yes. Everything is fine.” He managed a crooked smile as he brought her hands up and kissed her knuckles, “Everything is perfect… or at least it will be.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, a look of bewilderment flitting across her visage.

“I mean…” he let go with one hand and slid it into his pocket while sinking down onto one knee. The motion earned him a sharp gasp as Hermione’s eyes widened and one hand flew up to press against her now-trembling lips. He pulled the box out, and with a practiced move, flipped it open with his thumb and held it up so the glittering ring was on full display. “…Everything will be perfect if you...”

Slate-grey eyes found chocolate brown and anything he’d intended to say was stolen from him as a wave of overwhelming love and devotion for the woman standing there crashed over him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she was positively radiant and he couldn’t even begin to fathom what he had ever done to deserve this moment – to deserve _her_. His vision swam and he could hardly breathe for the tightness in his chest. He looked back down at the small box in his hand and fought to get his emotions in check.

“If you…” he tried again, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to work properly as a choked sob forced its way past his lips. “Will you…” he rasped out, desperation raging through him as his struggled against what was sure to be a full-on meltdown. He felt her squeeze his hand and brought his gaze back up to hers, and all he could manage was a strangled, whispered, “... _please_.”

Hermione’s eyes were filled to the point where she couldn’t make out anything other than a vague, blurred shape in front of her. Blinking furiously, the handsome face of the man she loved came into focus, his own eyes swimming with ardent hope, and she nodded insistently, likewise unable to speak.

Draco’s heart felt like it was about to burst as he carefully plucked the ring from its holding place. He’d had a whole speech prepared, a litany of things he appreciated about her and all the ways she made his life wonderful, yet somehow it wasn’t important anymore. Sliding the circle of precious metal on her fourth finger was entirely surreal and he tamped down the urge to pinch himself to make sure this was really happening. At last, the ring now in place, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles again and brought his watery gaze up to meet hers once more.

Hermione was overcome with joy, though tears still continued to trickle down her cheeks. She’d known this day was coming, but had never thought it would be so soon after their conversation in April. To say she’d been surprised would be a massive understatement. Her lips were quivering bad enough to make speech nearly impossible, so instead of attempting words at the moment, she just nodded again and tugged his hand, indicating he should stand up. Once he did, she flung herself at him, her arms curled tightly around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder as she sobbed with elation.

For Draco’s part, his pulse was racing and a few tears of his own had escaped as he tried to wrap his mind around this reality. He’d done it. He’d proposed – in almost wordless fashion, true, but she’d accepted nonetheless. It felt like the world’s greatest accomplishment, the pinnacle of his life’s achievements, and perhaps, in some small way, in his own little corner of the universe, it was. He was incandescently happy and emotionally drained at the same time, and was quickly coming to the realization that he should probably sit down before his legs simply gave out.

Gently maneuvering the still-crying witch in his hold, he managed to get them both lowered onto the blanket where he settled her in his lap, his arms locked tightly around her petite frame as he pressed numerous kisses to the top of her head. After a bit, he rested his cheek on her curls and was able to collect himself enough to say some of the things he’d meant to earlier.

“I love you, Hermione. So much, it’s completely staggering at times. You have made my life better in every way – have made _me_ better – and I will never be able to thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, all you’ve given me. But I promise I will do my best, every day, for as long as I walk this earth, to show you what you mean to me.” It still wasn’t the eloquent presentation he’d intended, but it was the honest-to-Merlin truth, and that was more important anyway.

After a minute or two, Hermione composed herself enough to say a few things of her own. Pulling back so she could fully meet the pewter stare she adored, she took a shuddering breath and cupped his cheek with her hand.

“I love you, too, Draco. More than you could possibly know – more than I will ever be able to accurately convey. You are an amazing man, and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You don’t have to thank me for anything. _You love me_. That’s all I need. It’s all I will ever need.”

Draco’s eyes started to sting again, hearing sentiments so very close to the ones he’d spoken to her the previous month, and his throat closed up as she spoke. He marveled for the umpteenth time at the events in his life that had led to this moment, to the incredible witch in his arms being part of his life. He leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss that melted his heart all over again and stoked a fire in his core that he’d gladly let burn him to ash. She was his. Granted, she’d been his in some ways for a year and a half now, but this was different. This was a major step, a more permanent one, something that declared to everyone else that she was the only one for him, and he for her, and that was that. A possessive and territorial sort of beast raised its head somewhere inside his chest and huffed smugly at the thought.

He kissed her till she was breathless, trailed pecks and nips down her jaw while she sighed and gasped, and nuzzled her ear as she hummed in pleasure. In return, she carded her fingers through his soft platinum locks and grazed her nails along his scalp and the back of his neck, raising a trail of gooseflesh in her wake. Her own kisses left him wanting more, and he sank his hands into her curls, his lips hot on hers while their tongues danced and their bodies melded more closely together. They stayed tangled up in each other for a while, and when they eventually came up for air, some details were brought to light.

“I haven’t even had a proper look at it,” Hermione giggled as they repositioned themselves side-by-side on the blanket. Draco was digging around in the hamper, knowing Merry had packed a small bottle of champagne as per his request, and as he retrieved it, along with two glasses, he turned to see his witch – _his fiancée_ – admiring the sparkling array of diamonds and amethysts on her left hand.

“Do you like it?” he asked nervously.

“It’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed, pinning him with a curious look, “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I hoped you would,” he grinned sheepishly and cocked his chin towards the custom piece, “The stones are actually from other items in my family’s vault, but I had them reset into something I thought was more your style.”

“It’s perfect,” she breathed happily, wiggling her fingers so as to see the sunlight reflecting off the gems. “Thank you,” she said softly as she leaned towards him to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

“Thank you for accepting it,” he replied when they broke apart.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” she asked again, a teasing glint in her eyes this time.

Draco scoffed, “Never doubted it. I knew you’d be helpless to resist my charms.”

“Oh, yes. Completely incapable,” she chortled and took the flute of bubbly he offered.

He carefully clinked their glasses together and met her eyes over the rims, “To us and our future, and a lifetime of happiness.”

“To us,” she agreed.

They enjoyed the secluded knoll for a short while longer, but eventually, Draco knew they had other things they needed to do. As he vanished the remains of their celebratory snack, he decided it was time for the second part of his plan to unfold.

“We should probably head back to the Manor,” he began.

“Oh, alright,” Hermione agreed, though he could tell she didn’t understand the sudden request.

“I thought perhaps you’d like to fill our families in on this bit of news,” he watched her carefully as his words registered.

“Our families? As in both yours and mine?” her eyes widened, “Are my parents here?”

Draco nodded, a grin splitting his face as she tackled him again in an exuberant display of surprise and appreciation. Peppering kisses all over his cheeks, jaw, and lips, she kept trying to talk, which was rather difficult.

“You incredible… thank you… so sweet… can’t believe…” she finally paused, catching his face between her palms and peering into his eyes with such love it made his heart skip, “Thank you.”

“Of course, love,” he kissed her once, took her hand, grabbed the hamper, and led them down the path, back towards the house.

ooOoo

Upon entering the sitting room, the newly-engaged couple found Narcissa, Andromeda, Edward, Jeanette, and Harry enjoying tea and biscuits while waiting for them to return. All five of them jumped up and called out a chorus of congratulations and wishful sentiments. Hugs were given all around and quite a few more tears were shed (this time, only by the females in the group, much to Draco’s great relief), and once Hermione’s new piece of jewelry had been properly admired, everyone sat back down to share their own part of the story.

Unbeknownst to the Brightest Witch, her parents had arrived at Grimmauld while she was at work on Friday morning. Harry, having taken the floo to the Ministry with her, had turned around as soon as she was out of sight and gone right back home to wait for the Grangers. Once they’d arrived, he’d then taken them to the Burrow, where they were meant to spend the rest of the day and night under Molly and Arthur’s friendly hospitality. The green-eyed hero returned to collect them Saturday after breakfast, and brought them to the Manor as soon as Narcissa fire-called to tell him Draco and Hermione had set off for their little jaunt in the woods.

“So, there you have it,” Jeanette beamed at her daughter, who was gaping at all of them like they’d sprouted antennae.

“I can’t believe…” she turned to the pale wizard beside her, “You orchestrated all this?”

“Well,” he swept a hand in front of him, indicating everyone present, “I had a bit of help.” He grinned at her, quite pleased with himself now that it had all been carried off successfully, and was alarmed to see her eyes fill with tears again, her chin quivering as she stared at him. “Love, what’s wrong?”

“You are so sweet,” her voice was barely a whisper, “to do all this for me.”

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer into his side as they sat on the couch, and let her cry into his shoulder for a few seconds, while the rest of the party observed with looks of patient understanding. After everything that had transpired in recent years, especially with regards to Hermione and her parents, having them present for this special occasion was even more meaningful than it typically would have been. The pale blonde knew that, which was why it had been so important to him that they be included. 

“I’m sure it’s been a rather overwhelming day,” Narcissa offered kindly, dabbing her napkin under her eyes.

“You pulled it off alright then?” Harry smirked at Draco, who huffed a wry laugh and, without too much detail, admitted to barely getting any of the words out.

“But she said ‘yes,’ and that’s the whole point, yeah?” he grinned sheepishly.

“Like I could ever say ‘no’ to you,” Hermione’s still-tremulous voice joined the conversation, followed by a watery chuckle.

“Hold her to that, son,” Edward wagged a finger in their direction, “Jeanette said something similar when we got engaged, and not even a year later she was flatly refusing to let me help decorate our new place.”

“That chair was hideous, Edward. Don’t even start.” His wife pinned him with a no-nonsense look before rolling her eyes and turning to Narcissa and Andromeda, “A pea-green recliner with gaffer tape on the arms; I ask you, would you have wanted that in your front room?” Everyone chuckled at that, even Edward, who looked back at Draco with an arched brow.

“Be prepared to concede. A lot. And even if you think you’ve won, chances are you probably haven’t,” his deep, rumbling laugh set everyone off again just as Merry appeared, floating a tray of champagne flutes and a chilled bottle beside her.

“For celebrating,” she squeaked as she bobbed a curtsey, smiling widely at her young master and his new bride-to-be.

Toasts were made all around, with words of sage advice and encouragement given by all those with marital experience, and Harry winding it all up with, “Just keep making each other happy.”

As their glasses were clinked and conversation turned to ideas surrounding the eventual wedding, Draco savored the feeling of peace and contentment that had settled over him as everything that had taken place took root in his heart. He and Hermione were engaged – they were going to be married – and the _happily ever after_ he’d never put much stock in before seemed like it really was in the cards for him after all. He knew there were lots of things they needed to discuss, many decisions to be made, and he still had a year of probation left to finish, but the day would come, and that was all that mattered.

_~Fin~_

**Dear Readers,**

**Ahhhhhh!!!!! I cannot believe we’re here, at the end of the second part of the story! At times I thought it was never going to happen – the chapters just kept coming – but we made it! Thank you from the bottom of my nerdy, little heart for sticking with me and loving these characters as much as I do. You all are truly wonderful!**

**The third and final part of Draco and Hermione’s tale will pick up the week after their engagement, during the house party at Neville’s estate. Entitled** **“ _Counting the Days_ ,”** **here is just a small piece of what’s to come…**

ooOoo

Throughout the five-course meal, the housemates updated one another on the goings on in their lives since they’d last seen each other roughly a month before. It was almost exactly like being back in the Room, though they all sat up a little straighter and used slightly better table manners, being in such an elegant setting. Of course, the newly affianced couple were entreated to tell their romantic story from start to finish (meaning Draco had to explain how he chose the ring, and how he orchestrated the arrival of the Grangers, and Hermione had to admit to being entirely clueless about any of it). 

“So, wait,” Theo interrupted just as Draco had reached the part about their little champagne toast in the forest clearing, “You never actually said the words, _‘Hermione, will you marry me,’_ or the like? Does it even count, then?”

Groaning good-naturedly, Draco scrubbed a hand down his face and cast a sheepish look at his bride-to-be, who was smiling at him with such pure joy he felt his heart would leap out of his chest.

Luna gently whacked her husband on the arm, “Of course it counts, Theo. I’m sure Hermione knew exactly what Draco was trying to say, since she agreed. Sometimes it’s the sentiment behind it that’s even more important than the words. Like the first time you told me you loved me, remember?”

Before she could continue, Theo barreled over her, “Yes, yes, absolutely. Of course it counts, I’m only joking. Draco knows that, right?” The lanky brunette seemed in a bit of a panic, which could only mean one thing.

“Theo,” Daphne leaned forward in her seat, peering at him from down the table, “What happened the first time you told Luna you loved her?”

“Happened? Nothing happened,” Theo insisted, his cheeks flaming red as his eyes darted around the room as if looking for an escape route. 

“Ohhhh, nononono,” Dean chortled gleefully, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of what was sure to be an entertaining story, “Spill it, mate.”

“Yeah, you’re not getting out of this,” Anthony smirked.

The usually, effortlessly poised Pureblood positively withered before their eyes, sinking as low as possible in his straight-backed chair, and glowering at his half-eaten dinner as if it was all the pan-seared salmon and roasted vegetables’ fault for his predicament.

“Oh, it’s nothing quite so terrible,” Luna trilled airily, “I think Theo had just been overthinking things, as he tends to do, and worked himself into quite a state.” She waved her hand as if to indicate this sort of thing could happen to anyone, while the man in question covered his face with his hands and muttered something entirely unintelligible.

“Come again, mate?” Draco wasn’t about to let his long-time friend off the hook so easily.

“Uurrgghh,” Theo groaned, sliding his fingers down his cheeks and looking helplessly at the ceiling while he made his confession. “Instead of telling Luna I loved her, I stammered and grunted like a complete Troll for ten horrible seconds before getting sick all over her shoes.”

Stunned silence reigned for a few beats as eight minds conjured this image. It was as if no one knew what to say to comfort their obviously-mortified friend, though Luna seemed completely unbothered by the whole thing, humming happily while she took another bite of her food.

“Well,” Hermione tried for a bolstering tone, “That’s…” but before she could come up with something nice or supportive, Draco sniggered next to her. Dean snorted across the table, and Neville was clearly biting his cheek as his face turned an alarming shade of red. Padma tried to hide her giggle in her napkin, and Daphne coughed rather unconvincingly. 

“It was definitely a memorable moment, I’m sure,” Hannah offered, and that was all it took for all of them to give in to a fit of hysterics. Eventually, even Theo joined in, knowing the absurdity of it all wasn’t something he’d ever live down, and Luna just patted his arm and beamed at him.

“Oh, mate, that’s amazing,” Anthony was wiping his eyes, “Just think, years from now, you can tell your children you puked on their mum.”

“And somehow she still married you,” Draco flashed a wicked grin at Theo, who promptly issued a two-fingered salute in response. 

Spastic bouts of laughter erupted throughout the course of the rest of their meal, with everyone sharing their own most embarrassing moments in recent years, partly to make Theo feel better, and partly because it was good fun. 

**…Continued in the third part of the series, _“Counting the Days.”_ Looking forward to having you all join me over there, starting on March 8th!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is. (Insert dramatic sigh and eye-wiping.) I know Draco might have enjoyed planning something more extravagant, but I honestly believe this is what Hermione would prefer, and I also just really wanted to give them a quiet, intimate moment, just between the two of them. He is absolutely precious - completely overwhelmed with love for her - which shows how amazingly far he has come from the hateful little boy we all first met at the very beginning of JKR's books. I've said it before and I'll keep saying it - THANK YOU!!!! You all have no idea how much your presence on here means to me, and I can truly say this has gone way beyond what I ever expected. I'm looking forward to sharing the next part of their journey with you in the VERY near future.  
> Next week (March 1st) I will be posting a one-shot I've had sitting on the side for a while entitled "Something Good." My plan is to post the first full chapter of "Counting the Days" on Monday, March 8th. Until then, I would love for you all to check out my other one-shots and short stories if you've got time and need to fill that Dramione spot in your heart with more fluff ;)  
> Thank you all, again! <3


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